THE 

BOSS 


HARRY  LEON  WILSON 


EX-LIBRIS 


J    C 


THE    BOSS   OF    LITTLE    ARCADY 


A-CHKSTIX'    OUT    HIS    CHEST    T,AHK    A    OLE    MA'ASII    FKAVVCi. 

(See  ixtije  7!>.) 


THE  BOSS  OF  LITTLE 
ARCADY 


BY 


HARRY   LEON   WILSON 

Author  of  "  The  Spenders,'"    <<  The  Lions  of 
the  Lord,"    «  The  Seeker,"   etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
ROSE  CECIL  O'NEILL 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP    PUBLISHING   COMPANY 


gj 


Copyright,  1905,  by 

LOTHROP,  LEE  &  SHEPARD  COMPANY 

Published,  August,  1905 


ENTERED  AT  STATIONERS'  HALL, 
LONDON. 


TO 

MY    MOTHER 


CONTENTS 

THE  BOOK  OF  COLONEL  POTTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  How  the  Boss  won  his  Title        .  .         3 

II.  The  Golden  Day  of  Colonel  Potts  .       17 

III.  The  Perfect  Lover      .         .         .  -35 

IV.  Dreams  and  Wakings          .         .  .51 
V.  A  Mad  Prank  of  the  Gods          .  .61 

VI.  A  Matter  of  Personal  Property  .  .       70 

VII.  "  A  World  of  Fine  Fabling "      .  .       81 

VIII.  Adventure  of  Billy  Durgin,  Sleuth  .       98 

IX.  How  the  Boss  saved  Himself      .  .     1 1 1 

X.  A  Lady  of  Powers      .         .         .  .122 


Vlii  CONTENTS  —  Continued 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XI.  How  Little  Arcady  was  Uplifted     .     133 

XII.  Troubled  Waters  are  Stilled    .        .     148 

THE   BOOK    OF  MISS   CAROLINE 

XIII.  A  Catastrophe  in  Furniture     .         .     165 

XIV.  The  Coming  of  Miss  Caroline          .     173 
XV.  Little  Arcady  views  a  Parade           .     188 

XVI.  The  Spectre  of  Scandal  is  Raised    .     198 

XVII.  The  Truth  about  Shakspere  at  Last     209 

XVIII.  In  which  the  Game  was  Played        .     225 

XIX.  A  Worthless  Black  Hound      .         .     239 

XX.  In  which  Something  must  be  Done     252 

XXI.  Little  Arcady  is  grievously  Shaken     262 

THE   BOOK    OF  LITTLE   MISS 

XXII.  The  Time  of  Dreams       .         .         .283 

XXIII.  The  Strain  of  Peavey      .         .         .291 

XXIV.  The  Loyalty  of  Jim          ...     300 
XXV.  The  Case  of  Fatty  Budlow       .         .312 

XXVI.  A  Little  Mystery  is  Solved      .         .     326 

XXVII.  How  a  Truce  was  Troublesome        .     334 

XXVIII.  The  Abdication  of  the  Boss     .         .     344 

XXIX.  In  which  All  Rules  are  Broken        .     353 

XXX.  By  Another  Hand   .         .         .         .364 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"A  chestin'  out  his  chest  lahk  a  ole  ma'ash 

frawg "  .          .         .         .  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  And  yet  I  have  been  pestered  by  cheap  flings 

at  my  personal  bearing "    .         .         .         .       27 

"  We  might  get  him  to  make  a  barrel  of  it  for 

the  Sunday-school  picnic  "...     220 

"That  will  do,"  I  said  severely.     "Remember 

there  is  a  gentleman  present "    .         .         -357 


The   Book   of 
COLONEL   POTTS 


CHAPTER  I 

HOW   THE    BOSS    WON    HIS   TITLE 

Late  last  Thursday  evening  one  Jonas  Rodney  Potts,  better 
known  to  this  community  as  "Upright"  Potts,  stumbled  into  the 
mill-race,  where  it  had  providentially  been  left  open  just  north  of 
Cady's  mill.  Everything  was  going  along  finely  until  two  hope 
less  busybodies  were  attracted  to  the  spot  by  his  screams,  and 
fished  him  out.  It  is  feared  that  he  will  recover.  We  withhold 
the  names  of  his  rescuers,  although  under  strong  temptation  to 
publish  them  broadcast.  —  Little  Arcady  Argus  of  May  2ist. 

LOOKING  back  to  that  time  from  a  happier  present, 
I  am  filled  by  a  genuine  awe  of  J.  Rodney  Potts. 
Reflecting  upon  those  benign  ends  which  the  gods 
chose  to  make  him  serve,  I  can  but  marvel  how 
lightly  each  of  us  may  meet  and  scorn  a  casual 
Potts,  unrecking  his  gracious  and  predestined  office 
in  the  play  of  Fate. 

Of  the  present  —  to  me  —  supreme  drama  of  the 
Little  Country,  I  can  only  say  that  the  gods  had 
selected  their  agent  with  a  cunning  so  flawless  that 
suspicion  of  his  portents  could  not  well  have  been 
aroused  in  one  lacking  discernment  like  unto  the 
gods'  very  own.  So  trivially,  so  utterly,  so  pitiably 

3 


4  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

casual,  to  eyes  of  the  flesh,  was  this  Potts  of  Little 
Arcady,  from  his  immortal  soul  to  the  least  item  of 
his  inferior  raiment ! 

Thus  craftily  are  we  fooled  by  the  Lords  of  Des 
tiny,  whose  caprice  it  is  to  affect  remoteness  from 
us  and  a  lofty  unconcern  for  our  poor  little  doings. 

There  is  bitterness  in  the  lines  of  that  Argus  para 
graph,  and  a  flippant  incivility  might  be  read  between 
them  by  the  least  discerning. 

Arcady  of  the  Little  Country,  however,  knows 
there  is  neither  bitterness  nor  real  cynicism  in  Solon 
Denney,  founder,  editor,  and  proprietor  of  the  Little 
Arcady  Argus ;  motto,  "Hew  to  the  Line,  Let  the 
Chips  Fall  Where  they  May !  "  Indeed,  we  do  know 
Solon.  Often  enough  has  the  Argus  hewn  inexo 
rably  to  the  line,  when  that  line  led  straight  through 
the  heart  of  its  guiding  genius  and  through  the 
hearts  of  us  all.  One  who  had  seen  him,  as  I  did, 
stand  uncovered  in  the  presence  of  his  new  Wash 
ington  hand-press,  the  day  that  dynamo  of  Light  was 
erected  in  the  Argus  office,  could  never  suppose  him 
to  lack  humanity  or  the  just  reverence  demanded  by 
his  craft. 

We  may  concede  without  disloyalty  that  Solon  is 
peculiar  unto  himself.  In  his  presence  you  are  cursed 
with  an  unquiet  suspicion  that  he  may  become  frivo 
lous  with  you  at  any  moment,  —  may,  indeed,  be  so 
at  that  moment,  despite  a  due  facial  gravity  and 
tones  of  weight,  —  for  he  will  not  infrequently  seem 
to  be  both  trivial  and  serious  in  the  same  breath. 


HOW  THE   BOSS   WON   HIS   TITLE  5 

Again,  he  is  amazingly  sensitive  for  one  not  devoid 
of  humor.  In  a  pleasant  sense  he  is  acutely  aware 
of  himself,  and  he  does  not  dislike  to  know  that  you 
feel  his  quality.  Still  again,  he  is  bound  to  spice  his 
writing.  Were  it  his  lot  to  report  events  on  the  Day 
of  Judgment,  I  believe  the  Argus  account  would  be 
thought  too  highly  colored  by  many  persons  of  good 
taste. 

But  Little  Arcady  knows  that  Solon  is  loyal  to  its 
welfare  —  knows  that  he  is  fit  to  wield  the  mightiest 
lever  of  Civilization  in  its  behalf  on  Wednesday  of 
each  week. 

We  know  now,  moreover,  that  an  undercurrent  of 
circumstance  existed  which  did  not  even  ripple  the 
surface  of  that  apparently  facetious  brutality  hurled 
at  J.  Rodney  Potts. 

The  truth  may  not  be  told  in  a  word.  But  it  was 
in  this  affair  that  Solon  Denney  won  his  title  of 
"  Boss  of  Little  Arcady,"  a  title  first  rendered  unto 
him  somewhat  in  derision,  I  regret  to  say,  by  a  num 
ber  of  our  leading  citizens,  who  sought,  as  it  were,  to 
make  sport  of  him. 

It  began  in  a  jest,  as  do  all  the  choicest  tragedies 
of  the  gods,  —  a  few  lines  of  idle  badinage,  meant  to 
spice  Solon's  column  of  business  locals  with  a  read 
able  sprightliness.  The  thing  was  printed,  in  fact, 
between  "  Let  Harpin  Cust  shine  your  face  with  his 
new  razors "  and  "  See  that  line  of  clocks  at  Chis- 
lett's  for  sixty  cents.  They  look  like  cuckoos  and 
keep  good  time." 


6  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

c 

"  Not  much  news  this  week,"  the  item  blithely  ran, 
"  so  we  hereby  start  the  rumor  that  '  Upright '  Potts 
is  going  to  leave  town.  We  would  incite  no  commu 
nity  to  lawless  endeavor,  but  —  may  the  Colonel  en 
counter  swiftly  in  his  new  environment  that  warm 
reception  to  which  his  qualities  of  mind,  no  less  than 
his  qualities  of  heart,  so  richly  entitle  him,  —  that 
reception,  in  short,  which  our  own  debilitated  public 
spirit  has  timidly  refused  him.  We  claim  the  right 
to  start  any  rumor  of  this  sort  that  will  cheer  the 
souls  of  an  admiring  constituency.  Now  is  the  time 
to  pay  up  that  subscription." 

The  intention,  of  course,  was  openly  playful  —  a 
not  subtle  sally  meant  to  be  read  and  forgotten.  Yet 
—  will  it  be  credited  ?  —  more  than  one  of  us  read  it 
so  hurriedly,  perhaps  with  so  passionate  a  longing 
to  have  it  the  truth,  as  not  to  perceive  its  satirical 
indirections.  The  rumor  actually  lived  for  a  day 
that  Potts  was  to  disembarrass  the  town  of  his 
presence. 

And  then,  from  the  fictitious  stuff  of  this  rumor 
was  spawned  a  veritable  inspiration.  Several  of  our 
most  public-spirited  citizens  seemed  to  father  it 
simultaneously. 

"  Why  should  Potts  not  leave  town  —  why  should 
he  not  seek  out  a  new  field  of  effort  ? " 

"  Field  of  effort "  was  a  rank  bit  of  poesy,  it  being 
certain  that  Potts  would  never  make  an  effort  worthy 
of  the  name  in  any  field  whatsoever ;  but  the  sense 
of  it  was  plain. 


HOW   THE   BOSS   WON   HIS  TITLE  7 

Increasingly  with  the  years  had  plans  been  devised 
to  alleviate  the  condition  of  Potts's  residence  among 
us.  Some  of  these  had  required  a  too  definite  and 
artificial  abruptness  in  the  mechanics  of  his  removal ; 
others,  like  Eustace  Eubanks's  plot  for  having  all  our 
best  people  refuse  to  notice  him,  depended  upon  a 
sensitiveness  in  the  person  aimed  at  which  he  did  not 
possess.  Besides,  there  had  been  talk  of  disbarring 
him  from  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  I,  as  a 
lawyer,  had  been  urged  to  instigate  that  proceeding. 
Unquestionably  there  was  ground  for  it. 

But  now  this  random  pleasantry  of  Solon  Denney's 
set  our  minds  to  working  in  another  direction. 

In  the  broad,  pleasant  window  of  the  post-office, 
under  the  "NO  LOAFING  HERE!"  sign,  half  a 
dozen  of  us  discussed  it  while  we  waited  for  the  noon 
mail.  There  seemed  to  be  a  half-formed  belief  that 
Potts  might  adroitly  be  made  to  perceive  advantages 
in  leaving  us. 

"  It's  a  whole  lot  better  to  manipulate  and  be  subtle 
in  a  case  like  this,"  suggested  the  editor  of  the  Argus. 
"  Threats  of  violence,  forcible  expulsion,  disbarment 
proceedings  —  all  crude  —  and  besides  they  won't 
move  Potts.  Jonas  Rodney  may  not  be  gifted  with 
a  giant  intellect,  but  he  is  cunning." 

"The  cunning  of  a  precocious  boy,"  prompted  Eus 
tace  Eubanks,  who  was  one  of  us.  "  He  is  well  aware 
that  we  would  not  dare  attempt  lawless  violence." 

"  Exactly,  Eustace,"  answered  Solon.  "  I  tell  you, 
gentlemen,  this  thriving  little  town  needs  a  canning 


8  THE   BOSS  OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

factory,  as  we  all  know;  but  more  than  a  canning 
factory  it  needs  a  Boss,  —  one  of  those  strong  char 
acters  that  make  tools  of  their  fellow-men,  who  rule 
our  cities  with  an  iron  hand  but  take  care  to  keep  the 
hand  in  a  velvet  glove,  —  a  Boss  that  is  diplomatic,  yet 
an  autocrat." 

That  careless  use  of  the  term  "Boss"  was  after 
ward  seen  to  be  unfortunate  for  Solon.  They  re 
membered  it  against  him. 

"  That's  right,"  said  Westley  Keyts.  "  Let's  be 
diplomatic  with  him." 

"  How  would  you  begin,  Westley,  if  you  don't 
mind  telling  us  ? "  Solon  had  already  begun  to  shape 
a  scheme  of  his  own. 

"Why,"  answered  Westley,  looking  very  earnest, 
"just  go  up  to  him  in  a  quiet,  refined  manner  —  no 
blustering,  understand  —  and  say  in  a  low  tone,  kind 
of  off-hand  but  serious,  '  Now,  look  a'  here,  Potts,  old 
boy,  let's  talk  this  thing  over  like  a  couple  of  gentle 
men  had  ought  to.'  '  Well,  all  right,'  says  Potts, 
'that's  fair  —  I  couldn't  refuse  tJiat  as  from  one 
gentleman  to  another  gentleman.'  Well,  then,  say 
to  him,  '  Now,  Potts,  you  know  as  well  as  any  man 
in  this  town  that  you're  an  all-round  no-good  — you're 
a  human  Not  —  and  a  darn  scalawag  into  the  bargain. 
So  what's  the  use  ?  Will  you  go,  or  won't  you  ? ' 
Then  if  he'd  begin  to  hem  and  haw  and  try  to  put 
it  off  with  one  thing  or  another,  why,  just  hint  in  a 
roundabout  way  —  perfectly  genteel,  you  understand  — 
that  there'd  be  doings  with  a  kittle  of  tar  and  feathers 


HOW   THE   BOSS   WON   HIS   TITLE  9 

that  same  night  at  eight-thirty  sharp,  rain  or  shine, 
with  a  free  ride  right  afterward  to  the  town  line  and 
mebbe  a  bit  beyond,  without  no  cushions.  Up  about 
the  Narrows  would  be  a  good  place  to  say  farewell," 
he  concluded  thoughtfully. 

We  had  listened  patiently  enough,  but  this  was  too 
summary.  Westley  Keyts  is  our  butcher,  a  good, 
honest,  energetic,  downright  business  man  with  a 
square  forehead  and  a  blunt  jaw  and  red  hair  that 
bristles  with  challenges.  But  he  seems  compelled  to 
say  too  nearly  what  he  means  to  render  him  useful  in 
negotiations  requiring  any  considerable  finesse. 

"  We  were  speaking,  Westley,  of  the  gentle  func 
tions  of  diplomacy,"  remarked  Solon,  cuttingly.  "  Of 
course,  we  could  waylay  Potts  and  kill  him  with  one 
of  your  cleavers  and  have  his  noble  head  stuffed 
and  mounted  to  hang  up  over  Barney  Skeyhan's  bar, 
but  it  wouldn't  be  subtle  —  it  would  not  be  what 
the  newspapers  call  '  a  triumph  of  diplomacy  ' !  And 
then,  again,  reports  of  it  might  be  carried  to  other 
towns,  and  talk  would  be  caused." 

"  Now,  say,"  retorted  Westley,  somewhat  abashed, 
"  I  was  thinking  I  answered  all  that  by  winding  up 
the  way  like  I  did,  asking  him,  —  not  mad-like,  you 
understand,  — '  Now  will  you  go  or  wont  you  ? '  just 
like  that.  All  I  can  say  is,  if  that  ain't  diplomacy, 
then  I  don't  know  what  in  Time  diplomacy  is  !  " 

I  think  we  conceded  this,  in  silence,  be  it  under 
stood,  for  Westley  is  respected.  But  we  looked  to 
Solon  for  a  more  tenuous  subtlety. 


10  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

Nor  did  he  fail  us.  Two  days  later  Potts  upon  the 
public  street  actually  announced  his  early  departure 
from  Little  Arcady. 

To  know  how  pleasing  an  excitement  this  created 
one  should  know  more  about  Potts.  It  will  have 
been  inferred  that  he  was  objectionable.  For  the 
fact,  he  was  objectionable  in  every  way :  as  a  human 
being,  a  man,  a  citizen,  a  member  of  the  Slocum 
County  bar,  and  a  veteran  of  our  late  civil  conflict. 
He  was  shiftless,  untidy,  a  borrower,  a  pompous 
braggart,  a  trouble-maker,  forever  driving  some  poor 
devil  into  senseless  litigation.  Moreover,  he  was 
blithely  unscrupulous  in  his  dealings  with  the  Court, 
his  clients,  his  brother-attorneys,  and  his  fellow-men 
at  large.  When  I  add  that  he  was  given  to  spells 
of  hard  drinking,  during  which  he  became  obnoxious 
beyond  the  wildest  possible  dreams  of  that  quality, 
it  will  be  seen  that  we  of  Little  Arcady  were  not 
without  reason  for  wishing  him  away. 

He  had  drifted  casually  in  upon  us  after  the  war, 
accompanied  somewhat  elegantly  by  one  John  Ran 
dolph  Clement  Tuckerman,  an  ex-slave.  He  came 
with  much  talk  of  his  regiment,  —  a  fat-cheeked, 
florid  man  of  forty-five  or  so,  with  shifty  blue  eyes 
and  an  address  moderately  insinuating.  Very  tall  he 
was,  and  so  erect  that  he  seemed  to  lean  a  little  back 
ward.  This  physical  trait,  combining  with  a  fancy 
for  referring  to  himself  freely  as  "  an  upright  citizen 
of  this  reunited  and  glorious  republic,  sir ! "  had 
speedily  made  him  known  as  "  Upright "  Potts.  He 


HOW   THE   BOSS   WON   HIS  TITLE  II 

was  of  a  slender  build  and  a  bony  frame,  except  in 
front.  His  long,  single-breasted  frock-coat  hung 
loosely  enough  about  his  shoulders,  yet  buttoned  tightly 
over  a  stomach  that  was  so  incongruous  as  to  seem 
artificial.  The  sleeves  of  the  coat  were  glossy  from 
much  desk  rubbing,  and  its  front  advertised  a  rather 
inattentive  behavior  at  table.  The  Colonel's  dress 
was  completed  by  drab  overgaiters  and  poorly  draped 
trousers  of  the  same  once-delicate  hue.  Upon  his  bald 
head,  which  was  high  and  peaked,  like  Sir  Walter 
Scott's,  he  carried  a  silk  hat  in  an  inferior  state  of 
preservation.  When  he  began  to  drink  it  was  his  cus 
tom  to  repair  at  once  to  a  barber  and  submit  to  having 
his  side-whiskers  trimmed  fastidiously.  Sober,  he 
seemed  to  feel  little  pride  of  person,  and  his  whiskers 
at  such  a  time  merely  called  attention  somewhat  un- 
prettily  to  his  lack  of  a  chin.  His  other  possessions 
were  an  ebony  walking  stick  with  a  gold  head  and 
what  he  referred  to  in  moments  of  expansion  as  his 
"library."  This  consisted  of  a  copy  of  the  Revised 
Statutes,  a  directory  of  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  for  the  year 
1867,  and  two  volumes  of  Patent  Office  reports. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  speak  the  Colonel  had  long 
been  sober,  and  the  day  that  Solon  Denney  com 
pleted  those  mysterious  negotiations  with  him  he  was 
as  far  from  conventional  standards  of  the  beautiful  as 
I  remember  to  have  seen  him. 

The  guise  of  Solon's  subtlety,  the  touch  of  his  iron 
hand  in  a  glove  of  softest  velvet,  had  been  in  this 
wise :  he  had  pointed  out  to  the  Colonel  that  there 


12  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

were  richer  fields  of  endeavor  to  the  west  of  us; 
newer,  larger  towns,  fitter  abodes  for  a  man  of  his 
parts ;  communities  which  had  honors  and  emolu 
ments  to  lavish  upon  the  worthy,  —  prizes  which  it 
would  doubtless  never  be  in  our  poor  power  to  bestow. 

Potts  was  stirred  by  all  this,  but  he  was  not  blinded 
to  certain  disadvantages,  —  "a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land,"  etc.,  while  in  Little  Arcady  he  had  already 
"  made  himself  known." 

But,  suggested  Solon,  with  a  ready  wit,  if  the 
stranger  were  to  go  fortified  with  certificates  of 
character  from  the  leading  citizens  of  his  late 
home  ? 

This  was  a  thing  to  consider.  Potts  reflected  more 
favorably ;  but  still  he  hesitated.  He  was  unable  to 
believe  that  these  certificates  of  his  excellence  might 
be  obtained.  The  bar  and  the  commercial  element 
of  Little  Arcady  had  been  cold,  not  to  say  suspicious, 
toward  him.  It  was  an  unpleasant  thing  to  mention, 
but  a  cabal  had  undeniably  been  formed. 

Solon  was  politely  incredulous.  He  pledged  his 
word  of  honor  as  a  gentleman  to  provide  the  letters, 
—  a  laudatory,  an  uplifting  letter,  from  every  citizen 
in  town  whose  testimony  would  be  of  weight ;  also  a 
half-column  of  fit  praise  in  the  next  issue  of  the  Argus, 
twelve  copies  of  which  Potts  should  freely  carry  off 
with  him  for  judicious  scattering  about  the  fortunate 
town  in  which  his  journey  should  end. 

Then  Potts  spoke  openly  of  the  expenses  of  travel. 
Solon,  royally  promising  a  purse  of  gold  to  take  him 


HOW  THE   BOSS   WON   HIS   TITLE  13 

on  his  way,  clenched  the  winning  of  a  neat  and  blood 
less  victory. 

No  one  has  ever  denied  that  Denney  must  have 
employed  a  faultless,  an  incomparable  tact,  to  bring 
J.  Rodney  Potts  to  this  agreement.  By  tact  alone 
had  he  achieved  that  which  open  sneers,  covert  in 
sult,  abuse,  ridicule,  contumely,  and  forthright  threats 
had  failed  to  consummate,  and  in  the  first  flush  of 
the  news  we  all  felt  much  as  Westley  Keyts  said  he 
did. 

"  Solon  Denney  is  some  subtler  than  me,"  said 
Westley,  in  a  winning  spirit  of  concession  ;  "  I  can 
see  that,  now.  He's  the  Boss  of  Little  Arcady  after 
this,  all  right,  so  far  as  /  know." 

Nevertheless,  there  was  misgiving  about  the  letters 
for  Potts.  Old  Asa  Bundy,  our  banker,  wanted  to 
know,  somewhat  peevishly,  if  it  seemed  quite  honest 
to  send  Potts  to  another  town  with  a  satchel  full  of 
letters  certifying  to  his  rare  values  as  a  man  and  a 
citizen.  What  would  that  town  think  of  us  two  or 
three  days  later? 

"This  is  no  time  to  split  hairs,  Bundy,"  said 
Solon ;  and  I  believe  I  added,  "  Don't  be  quixotic, 
Mr.  Bundy!" 

Hereupon  Westley  Keyts  broke  in  brightly. 

"  Why,  now,  they'll  see  in  a  minute  that  the  whole 
thing  was  meant  as  a  joke.  They'll  see  that  the 
laugh  is  on  them,  and  they'll  have  a  lot  of  fun  out  of 
it,  and  then  send  the  old  cuss  along  to  another  town 
with  some  more  funny  letters  to  fool  the  next  ones." 


14  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  That's  all  very  well,  but  it  isn't  high  conduct," 
insisted  Bundy. 

Westley  Keyts  now  achieved  the  nearest  approach 
to  diplomacy  I  have  ever  known  of  him. 

"  Oh,  well,  Asa,  after  all,  this  is  a  world  of  give 
and  take.  '  Live  and  let  live  '  is  my  motto." 

"  We  must  use  common  sense  in  these  matters,  you 
know,  Bundy,"  observed  Solon,  judicially. 

And  that  sophistry  prevailed,  for  we  were  weak 
unto  faintness  from  our  burden. 

We  gave  letters  setting  forth  that  J.  Rodney  Potts 
was  the  ideal  inhabitant  of  a  city  larger  than  our 
own.  We  glowed  in  describing  the  virtues  of  our  de 
parting  townsman  ;  his  honesty  of  purpose,  his  integ 
rity  of  character,  his  learning  in  the  law,  his  wide 
range  of  achievement,  civic  and  military,  —  all  those 
attributes  that  fitted  him  to  become  a  stately  orna 
ment  and  a  tower  of  strength  to  any  community 
larger  in  the  least  degree  than  our  own  modest  town. 

And  there  was  the  purse.  Fifty  dollars  was  sug 
gested  by  Eustace  Eubanks,  but  Asa  Bundy  said 
that  this  would  not  take  Potts  far  enough.  Eustace 
said  that  a  man  could  travel  an  immense  distance  for 
fifty  dollars.  Bundy  retorted  that  an  ordinary  man 
might  perhaps  go  far  enough  on  that  sum,  but  not  Potts. 

"  If  we  are  to  perpetrate  this  outrage  at  all," 
insisted  Bundy,  pulling  in  calculation  at  his  little 
chin-whisker,  "  let  us  do  it  thoroughly.  A  hundred 
dollars  can't  take  Potts  any  too  far.  We  must  see 
that  he  keeps  going  until  he  could  never  get  back  — 


HOW   THE   BOSS   WON   HIS   TITLE  15 

We  all  nodded  to  this. 

"  —  and  another  thing,  the  farther  away  from  this 
town  those  letters  are  read,  —  why,  the  better  for  our 
reputations." 

A  hundred  dollars  it  was.  Purse  and  letters  were 
turned  over  to  Solon  Denney  to  deliver  to  Potts. 
The  Argus  came  out  with  its  promised  eulogy,  a 
thing  so  fulsome  that  any  human  being  but  J.  Rodney 
Potts  would  have  sickened  to  read  it  of  himself. 

But  our  little  town  was  elated.  One  could  ob 
serve  that  last  day  a  subdued  but  confident  gayety 
along  its  streets  as  citizens  greeted  one  another. 

On  every  hand  were  good  fellowship  and  kind 
words,  the  light-hearted  salute,  the  joyous  mien.  It 
was  an  occasion  that  came  near  to  being  festal,  and 
Solon  Denney  was  its  hero.  He  sought  to  bear  his 
honors  with  the  modesty  that  is  native  to  him,  but 
in  his  heart  he  knew  that  we  now  spoke  of  him 
glibly  as  the  Boss  of  Little  Arcady,  and  the  con 
sciousness  of  it  bubbled  in  his  manner  in  spite  of 
him. 

When  it  was  all  over,  —  though  I  had  not  once 
raised  my  voice  in  protest,  and  had  frankly  connived 
with  the  others,  —  I  confess  that  I  felt  shame  for  us 
and  pity  for  the  friendless  man  we  were  sending  out 
into  the  world.  Something  childlike  in  his  accept 
ance  of  the  proposal,  a  few  phrases  of  na'fve  enthusi 
asm  for  his  new  prospects,  repeated  to  me  by  Solon, 
touched  me  strangely.  It  was,  therefore,  with  real 
embarrassment  that  I  read  the  Argus  notice. 


16  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  With  profound  regret,"  it  began,  "  we  are 
obliged  to  announce  to  our  readers  the  determination 
of  our  distinguished  fellow-townsman,  Colonel  J. 
Rodney  Potts,  to  shake  the  dust  of  Little  Arcady 
from  his  feet.  Deaf  to  entreaties  from  our  leading 
citizens,  the  gallant  Colonel  has  resolved  that  in 
simple  justice  to  himself  he  must  remove  to  some 
larger  field  of  action,  where  his  native  genius,  his 
flawless  probity,  and  his  profound  learning  in  the 
law  may  secure  for  him  those  richer  rewards  which  a 
man  of  his  unusual  caliber  commendably  craves  and 
so  abundantly  merits." 

There  followed  an  overflowing  half-column  of 
warmest  praise,  embodying  felicitations  to  the  un 
named  city  so  fortunate  as  to  secure  this  "  peerless 
pleader  and  Prince  of  Gentlemen."  It  ended  with  the 
assurance  that  Colonel  Potts  would  take  with  him  the 
cordial  good-will  of  every  member  of  a  community 
to  which  he  had  endeared  himself,  no  less  by  his 
sterling  civic  virtues  than  by  his  splendid  qualities 
of  mind  and  heart. 

The  thing  filled  me  with  an  indignant  pity.  I 
tried  in  vain  to  sleep.  In  the  darkness  of  night  our 
plan  came  to  seem  like  an  atrocious  outrage  upon  a 
guileless,  defenceless  ne'er-do-well.  For  my  share 
of  the  guilt,  I  resolved  to  convey  to  Potts  privately 
on  the  morrow  a  more  than  perfunctory  promise  of 
aid,  should  he  find  himself  distressed  at  any  time  in 
what  he  would  doubtless  term  his  new  field  of  en 
deavor. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS 

I  AWOKE  the  next  morning  under  most  vivid  por 
tents  of  calamity.  I  believe  I  am  neither  notional, 
nor  given  to  small,  vulgar  superstitions,  but  I  have 
learned  that  this  peculiar  sensation  is  never  without 
significance.  I  remember  that  I  felt  it  the  night  our 
wagon  bridge  went  out  by  high  water.  I  tried  to 
read  the  presentiment  as  I  dressed.  But  not  until 
I  was  shaving  did  it  relate  itself  to  the  going  out  of 
Potts.  Then  the  illumination  came  with  a  speed  so 
electric  that  I  gashed  my  chin  under  the  shock  of 
it.  Instantly  I  seemed  to  know,  as  well  as  I  know 
to-day,  that  the  Potts  affair  had,  in  some  manner, 
been  botched. 

So  apprehensive  was  I  that  I  lingered  an  hour  on 
my  little  riverside  porch,  dreading  the  events  that  I 
felt  the  day  must  unfold.  Inevitably,  however,  I  was 
drawn  to  the  centre  of  things.  Turning  down  Main 
Street  at  the  City  Hotel  corner,  on  the  way  to  my 
office,  I  had  to  pass  the  barber-shop  of  Harpin  Cust, 
in  front  of  which  I  found  myself  impelled  to  stop. 
Looking  over  the  row  of  potted  geraniums  in  the 
window,  I  beheld  Colonel  Potts  in  the  chair,  swathed 
to  -the  chin  in  the  barber's  white  cloth,  a  gaze  of 

17 


1 8  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

dignified  admiration  riveted  upon  his  counterpart  in 
the  mirror.  Seen  thus,  he  was  not  without  a  simi 
larity  to  pictures  of  the  Matterhorn,  his  bare,  rugged 
peak  rising  fearsomely  above  his  snow-draped  bulk. 
Harpin  appeared  to  be  putting  the  last  snipping 
touches  to  the  Colonel's  too-long  neglected  side- 
whiskers.  On  the  table  lay  his  hat  and  gold-headed 
cane,  and  close  at  hand  stood  his  bulging  valise. 

I  walked  hastily  on.  The  thing  was  ominous. 
Yet,  might  it  not  merely  denote  that  Potts  wished  to 
enter  upon  his  new  life  well  barbered  ?  The  bulging 
bag  supported  this  possibility,  and  yet  I  was  ill  at 
ease. 

Reaching  my  office,  I  sought  to  engage  myself  with 
the  papers  of  an  approaching  suit,  but  it  was  impos 
sible  to  ignore  the  darkling  cloud  of  disaster  which 
impended.  I  returned  to  the  street  anxiously. 

On  my  way  to  the  City  Hotel,  where  I  had  resolved 
to  await  like  a  man  what  calamity  there  might  be, 
I  again  passed  the  barber-shop. 

Harpin  Cust  now  leaned,  gracefully  attentive,  on 
the  back  of  the  empty  chair,  absently  swishing  his 
little  whisk  broom.  Before  him  was  planted  Potts, 
his  left  foot  advanced,  his  head  thrown  back,  reading 
to  Harpin  from  a  spread  page  of  the  Argus.  I 
divined  that  he  was  reading  Solon's  comment  upon 
himself,  and  I  shuddered. 

As  I  paused  at  the  door  of  the  hotel  Potts  emerged 
from  the  barber-shop.  In  one  hand  he  carried  his 
bag,  in  the  other  his  cane  and  the  Little  Arcady 


THE   GOLDEN   DAY  OF   COLONEL   POTTS        19 

Argus.  His  hat  was  a  bit  to  one  side,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  he  was  leaning  back  farther  than  usual. 
He  had  started  briskly  down  the  street  in  the  oppo 
site  direction  from  me,  but  halted  on  meeting  Eustace 
Eubanks.  The  Colonel  put  down  his  bag  and  they 
shook  hands.  Eustace  seemed  eager  to  pass  on,  but 
the  Colonel  detained  him  and  began  reading  from  the 
Argus.  His  voice  carried  well  on  the  morning  air,  and 
various  phrases,  to  which  he  gave  the  full  meed  of 
emphasis,  floated  to  me  on  the  gentle  breeze.  "  That 
peerless  pleader  and  Prince  of  Gentlemen,"  came 
crisply  to  my  ears.  Eustace  appeared  to  be  restive, 
but  the  Colonel,  through  caution,  or,  perhaps,  mere 
friendliness,  had  moored  him  by  a  coat  lapel. 

The  reading  done,  I  saw  that  Eustace  declined 
some  urgent  request  of  the  Colonel's,  drawing  away 
the  moment  his  coat  was  released.  As  they  parted, 
my  worst  fears  were  confirmed,  for  I  saw  the  Colonel 
progress  flourishingly  to  the  corner  and  turn  in  under 
the  sign,  "  Barney  Skeyhan  ;  Choice  Wines,  Liquors, 
and  Cigars." 

"What  did  he  say?"  I  asked  of  Eustace  as  he 
came  up. 

"  It  was  exceedingly  distasteful,  Major."  Eustace 
was  not  a  little  perturbed  by  the  encounter.  "  He 
read  every  word  of  that  disgusting  article  in  the 
Argus  and  then  he  begged  me  to  go  into  that  Skey- 
han's  drinking-place  with  him  and  have  a  glass  of 
liquor.  I  said  very  sharply,  '  Colonel  Potts,  I  have 
never  known  the  taste  of  liquor  in  my  whole  life 


20  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

nor  used  tobacco  in  any  form.'  At  that  he  looked 
at  me  in  the  utmost  astonishment  and  said :  '  Bless 
my  soul !  Really  ?  Young  man,  don't  you  put  it 
off  another  day  —  life  is  awful  uncertain.'  'Why, 
Colonel,'  I  said,  '  that  isn't  any  way  to  talk,'  but 
he  simply  tore  down  the  street,  saying  that  I  was 
taking  great  chances." 

"And  now  he  is  reading  his  piece  to  Barney 
Skeyhan  !  "  I  groaned. 

"  Rum  is  the  scourge  of  our  American  civilization," 
remarked  Eustace,  warmly. 

"  Barney  Skeyhan's  rum  would  scourge  anybody's 
civilization,"  I  said. 

"  Of  course  I  meant  all  civilization,"  suggested 
Eustace,  in  polite  help  to  my  lame  understanding. 

Precisely  at  nine  o'clock  Potts  issued  from  Skey 
han's,  bearing  his  bag,  cane,  and  Argus  as  before. 
He  looked  up  and  down  the  quiet  street  interestedly, 
then  crossed  over  to  Hermann  Hoffmuller's,  another 
establishment  in  which  our  civilization  was  especially 
menaced.  He  was  followed  cordially  by  five  of 
Little  Arcady's  lesser  citizens,  who  had  obviously 
sustained  the  relation  of  guests  to  him  at  Skeyhan's. 
In  company  with  Westley  Keyts  and  Eubanks,  I 
watched  this  procession  from  the  windows  of  the  City 
Hotel.  Solon  Denney  chanced  to  pass  at  the  moment, 
and  we  hailed  him. 

"  Oh,  I'll  soon  fix  that"  said  Solon,  confidently. 
"  Don't  you  worry  !  " 

And  forthwith  he  sent    Billy  Durgin,  who  works 


THE    GOLDEN    DAY   OF   COLONEL    POTTS       21 

in  the  City  Hotel,  to  Hoffmuller's.  He  was  to  re 
mind  Colonel  Potts  that  his  train  left  at  eleven- 
eight. 

Billy  returned  with  news.  Potts  was  reading  the 
piece  to  Hoffmuller  and  a  number  of  his  patrons. 
Further,  he  had  bought,  and  the  crowd  was  then  con 
suming,  the  two  fly-specked  bottles  of  champagne 
which  Hoffmuller  had  kept  back  of  his  bar,  one  on 
either  side  of  a  stuffed  owl,  since  the  day  he  began 
business  eleven  years  before. 

Billy  also  brought  two  messages  to  Solon :  one 
from  Potts  that  he  had  been  mistaken  about  the 
attitude  of  Little  Arcady  toward  himself  —  that  he 
was  seeing  this  more  clearly  every  minute.  The  other 
was  from  Hoffmuller.  Solon  Denney  was  to  know  that 
some  people  might  be  just  as  good  as  other  people 
who  thought  themselves  a  lot  better,  and  would  he 
please  not  take  some  shingles  off  a  man's  roof? 

Solon,  ever  the  incorrigible  optimist,  said,  "  Of 
course  I  might  have  waited  till  he  was  on  the  train 
to  give  him  the  money ;  but  don't  worry,  he'll  be 
ready  enough  to  go  when  the  'bus  starts." 

I  felt  unable  to  share  fiis  confidence.  That  pre 
sentiment  had  for  the  moment  corrupted  my  natural 
hopefulness. 

It  was  a  few  moments  after  ten  when  Potts  next 
appeared  to  our  group  of  anxious  watchers.  This 
time  he  had  more  friends.  They  swarmed  respect 
fully  but  enthusiastically  after  him  out  of  Hoff- 
muiler's  place,  a  dozen  at  least  of  our  ne'er-do-wells. 


22  THE   BOSS    OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

One  of  these,  "Big  Joe"  Kestril,  a  genial  lout  of  a 
section-hand,  ostentatiously  carried  the  bag  and  had 
an  arm  locked  tenderly  through  one  of  the  Colonel's. 
These  two  led  the  procession.  It  halted  at  the  corner, 
where  the  Colonel  began  to  read  his  Argus  notice  to 
Bela  Bedford,  our  druggist,  who  had  been  on  the 
point  of  entering  his  store.  But  the  newspaper  had 
suffered.  It  was  damp  from  being  laid  on  bars,  and 
parts  of  it  were  in  tatters.  The  reader  paused,  mid 
way  of  the  first  paragraph,  to  piece  a  tear  across 
the  column,  and  Bedford  escaped  by  dashing  into  his 
store.  The  Colonel,  suddenly  discovering  that  he 
could  recite  the  thing  from  memory,  did  so  with  con 
siderable  dramatic  effect,  seeming  not  to  notice  the 
defection  of  Bedford.  The  crowd  cheered  madly 
when  he  had  finished,  and  followed  him  across  the 
street  to  the  bar  of  the  City  Hotel. 

We  could  now  observe  better.  The  bar  of  the  City 
Hotel  is  next  the  office.  A  door  is  open  between 
them  with  a  wooden  screen  standing  before  it.  In 
side  the  carouse  raged,  while  we,  \vho  had  thought 
to  set  Potts  at  large,  listened  and  wondered.  The 
taller  among  us  could  overlook  the  screen.  We 
beheld  Potts,  one  elbow  resting  on  the  bar,  his  other 
hand  with  the  cane  in  it  waving  forward  his  unreluc- 
tant  train,  while  he  loudly  inquired  if  there  were 
drink  to  be  had  suitable  for  a  gentleman  who  was 
prepared  to  spend  his  money  like  a  lord. 

"  None  of  that  cooking  whiskey,  mind — nothing  but 
the  best  bottled  goods,  if  you  please  !  "  was  the  next 
suggestion. 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS   23 

Again  the  crowd  cheered.  New  faces  were  con 
stantly  appearing.  The  news  had  gone  out  with  an 
incredible  rapidity.  Honest  men,  inflamed  by  the 
report,  were  leaving  their  works  and  speeding  to  the 
front  from  as  far  north  as  the  fair-grounds  and  as  far 
south  as  the  depot. 

"  Soon,"  said  Potts,  after  the  first  drink,  "  ah,  too 
soon,  I  shall  be  miles  away  from  your  thriving  little 
hamlet,  —  as  pretty  a  spot,  by  the  way,  as  God  ever 
made,  —  seeing  none  but  strange  faces,  longing  for 
the  old  hearty  hand-clasps,  seeking,  perhaps,  in  vain, 
for  one  kindly  look  which  —  which  is  now  to  be  ob 
served  on  every  hand.  But,  friends,  Colonel  J.  Rod 
ney  will  not  forget  you.  I  have  rare  prospects,  but 
no  matter.  To  this  little  spot,  the  fairest  in  all 
Nature,  —  here  among  your  simple,  heartfelt  faces, 
where  I  first  got  my  start,  —  here  my  feelings  will 
ever  and  anon  return  ;  for  —  why  should  I  conceal  it  ? 
—  it  is  you,  my  friends,  who  have  made  me  the  man 
I  am." 

Here  Potts  put  an  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  Big 
Joe  and  urged  pleadingly  :  "  Another  verse  of  that 
sweet  old  song,  boys.  I  tell  you  that  has  the  true 
heart-stuff  in  it  —  now  —  " 

They  roared  out  a  verse  of  "  Auld  Lang  Syne," 
with  execrable  attempts  at  part-singing,  little  Dan 
Lefferts,  a  dissolute  house-painter,  contributing  a 
tenor  that  was  simply  maniacal. 

Potts  ordered  more  drinks.  This  done,  he  leaned 
heavily  upon  the  bar  and  burst  into  tears.  The 


24  THE   BOSS   OF    LITTLE    ARCADY 

varlets  crowded  about  him  with  tender,  soothing 
words,  while  we  in  the  other  room  anxiously  watched 
them  and  the  clock. 

He  was  overcome,  it  seemed,  by  the  affection  which 
it  now  transpired  that  Little  Arcady  bore  for  him. 
Presently  he  half  dried  his  tears  and  drew  from  an 
inner  pocket  of  his  coat  the  package  of  our  letters. 

With  eyes  again  streaming,  in  a  sob-riven  voice,  he 
read  them  all  to  the  pleased  crowd.  At  the  end,  he 
regained  control  of  himself. 

"  Gentlemen,  believe  it  or  not,  nothing  has  touched 
me  like  this  since  I  bade  farewell  to  my  regiment  in 
'65.  You  are  getting  under  the  heart  of  Jonas 
Rodney  this  time  —  I  can't  deny  that." 

He  began  on  the  letters  again,  selecting  the 
choicest,  and  not  forgetting  at  intervals  to  rebuke 
the  bar-tender  for  alleged  inactivity. 

At  last  the  clock  marked  ten-forty,  and  we  heard 
the  welcome  rumble  of  the  'bus  wheels.  There  was  a 
hurried  consultation  with  Amos  Deane,  the  driver. 
He  was  to  enter  the  bar  in  a  brisk,  businesslike  way, 
seize  the  bag,  and  hustle  the  Colonel  out  before  he 
had  time  to  reflect.  We  peered  over  the  screen, 
knowing  the  fateful  moment  was  come. 

We  saw  the  Colonel  resist  the  attack  on  his  bag 
and  listen  with  marked  astonishment  to  the  asser 
tion  of  Amos  that  there  was  just  time  to  catch  the 
train. 

"Time  was  made  for  slaves,"  said  Potts. 

"That  there  train  ain't  goin'  to  wait  a  minute," 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS   25 

reminded  Amos,  civilly.  The  Colonel  turned  upon 
him  with  a  large  sweetness  of  manner. 

"Ah,  yes,  my  friend,  but  trains  will  be  passing 
through  your  pretty  little  hamlet  for  years  —  I  hope 
for  ages  —  yet.  They  pass  every  day,  but  you  can't 
have  Jonas  Rodney  Potts  every  day." 

Here,  with  a  gesture,  he  directed  the  crowd's  atten 
tion  to  Amos. 

"  Look  at  him,  gentlemen.  Speak  to  him  for  me 
—  for  I  cannot.  I  ask  you  to  note  the  condition 
he's  in."  Here,  again,  the  Colonel  burst  into  tears. 
"And,  oh,  my  God!"  he  sobbed,  "could  they  ask 
me  to  trust  myself  to  a  drunken  rowdy  of  a  driver, 
even  if  I  was  going?"  Amos  was  not  only  sober, 
he  was  a  shrewd  observer  of  events,  a  seasoned  judge 
of  men.  He  turned  away  without  further  parley. 
Big  Joe  told  him  he  ought  to  be  in  better  business 
than  trying  to  break  up  a  pleasant  party. 

As  the  'bus  started,  the  strains  of  "Auld  Lang 
Syne  "  floated  to  us  again,  and  we  knew  the  day  was 
lost. 

"  A  hand  of  iron  in  a  cunning  little  velvet  glove," 
said  Westly  Keyts,  in  deep  disgust  as  he  left  us.  "  It 
looks  to  me  a  darned  sight  more  like  a  hand  of  mush 
in  a  glove  of  the  same  !  " 

I  have  often  been  brought  to  realize  that  the  latent 
nobility  in  our  human  nature  is  never  so  effectually 
aroused  as  at  the  second  stage  of  alcoholic  dementia. 
The  victim  sustains  a  shock  of  illumination  hardly 
less  than  divine.  On  a  sudden  he  is  vividly  cogni- 


26  THE   BOSS    OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

zant  of  his  overwhelming  spiritual  worth.  Dazed  in 
the  first  moment  of  this  flooding  consciousness,  he  is 
presently  to  be  heard  recalling  instances  of  his  noble 
conduct  under  difficulty,  of  righteous  fortitude  under 
strain.  Especially  does  he  find  himself  endowed  with 
the  antique  virtues  —  with  courage  and  a  rugged 
fidelity,  a  stainless  purity  of  motive,  a  fond  and  meas 
ureless  generosity. 

To  this  stage  the  libations  of  Potts  had  now  brought 
him.  He  began  to  refresh  the  crowd  with  comments 
upon  his  own  worth,  interspersed  with  kindly  but 
hurt  appreciations  of  the  great  world's  lack  of  dis 
cernment.  He  besought  and  defied  each  gentleman 
present  to  recall  an  occasion,  however  trivial,  when 
his  conduct  had  fallen  short  of  the  loftiest  standards. 
Especially  were  they  begged  to  cite  an  instance  when 
he  had  deviated  in  the  least  degree  from  a  line  of 
strictest  loyalty  to  any  friend.  Big  Joe  Kestril  was 
overcome  at  this.  He  broke  down  and  wept  out 
upon  the  shoulder  of  Potts  his  hopeless  inability  to 
comply  with  that  outrageous  request.  The  entire 
crowd  became  emotional,  and  a  dozen  lighted  matches 
were  thrust  forward  toward  an  apparently  incombus 
tible  cigar  with  which  Potts  had  long  striven. 

Recovering  from  these  first  ravages  of  his  self- 
analysis,  the  Colonel  became  just  a  bit  critical. 

"  But  you  see,  boys,  a  man  of  my  attributes  is  ham 
pered  and  kept  down  in  a  one-horse  place  like  this. 
Remarks  have  been  passed  about  me  here  that  I 
should  blush  to  repeat.  I  say  it  in  confidence,  but  I 


AND    YKT    I    HAVK    HKKX    1'KSTKKKI)    HY  CIIKAl'    FLINGS    AT    MY 
1'KKSOXAL    HKAKIXU." 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS   27 

have  again  and  again  been  made  the  sport  of  a  way 
ward  and  wanton  ridicule.  I  say,  gentlemen,  I  have 
always  conducted  myself  as  only  a  Potts  knows  how 
to  conduct  himself  — •  and  yet  I  have  been  pestered 
by  cheap  flings  at  my  personal  bearing.  Is  this 
courtesy,  is  it  common  fairness,  is  it  the  boasted  civ 
ilization  of  our  nineteenth  century  ?  " 

Hoarse  expressions  of  incredulity,  of  execration,  of 
disgust,  came  from  the  crowd  as  it  raised  glasses  once 
more.  The  Colonel  glared  down  the  sloppy  length 
of  the  bar,  then  gazed  aloft  into  the  smoky  heights. 
The  crowd  waited  for  him  to  say  something. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  day,  gentlemen.  A  fine,  balmy 
spring  day.  Let  us  be  out  and  away  to  mossy  dells. 
Why  stay  in  this  low  drinking-place  when  all  Nature 
beckons  ?  Come  on  back  to  Hoffmuller's.  Besides," 
—  he  cast  a  reproachful  look  at  the  bar-tender,  — 
"  the  hospitality  of  this  place  is  not  what  an  upright 
citizen  of  this  great  republic  has  a  right  to  expect 
when  he's  throwing  his  good  money  right  and  left." 

He  marched  out  in  hurt  dignity,  followed  by  his 
train,  many  of  whom,  in  loyalty  to  their  host,  sneered 
openly  at  the  bar-tender  as  they  passed. 

Outside  the  Colonel  poised  himself  in  gala  attitude, 
and  benignantly  surveyed  our  quiet  little  Main  Street 
in  both  directions.  Across  the  way  in  the  door  of 
the  First  National  Bank  stood  Asa  Bundy,  a  look  of 
interest  on  his  face. 

The  Colonel's  sweeping  glance  halted  upon  Bundy. 
With  a  glad  cry  he  started  across  to  him,  but  Bundy, 


28  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

beholding  the  move,  fled  actively  inside.  The  Colonel 
reached  the  door  of  the  bank  and  tried  the  knob,  but 
the  key  had  been  turned  in  the  lock,  and  the  next 
moment  the  curtains  of  the  door  were  swiftly  drawn. 
"  Bank  Closed  "  was  printed  upon  them  in  large  gold 
letters. 

Potts  stepped  aside  to  look  into  the  window,  and 
the  curtain  of  that  descended  relentlessly.  The  bank 
had  suddenly  taken  on  an  aspect  of  Sabbath  blank- 
ness.  Once  more  the  Colonel  rattled  the  knob,  then 
he  turned  to  his  gathering  followers. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  came  here  to  press  the  hand  of  one 
of  Nature's  noblemen,  my  tried  friend,  the  Honor 
able  Asa  Bundy,  whom  we  have  just  seen  retreating 
to  his  precincts,  as  I  might  say,  with  a  modesty  that 
is  rarely  beautiful.  But  no  matter."  Here  the 
Colonel  mounted  the  top  step  and  glowed  out  upon 
his  faithful  and  ever  enlarging  band. 

"  Instead,  my  friends,  allow  me  to  read  you  this 
splendid  tribute  from  Bundy,  and  I  trust  that  after 
this  I  shall  never  hear  one  of  you  utter  a  word  in  his 
disparagement." 

Rapidly  fluttering  the  packet  of  letters,  he  drew  out 
one  bearing  the  imprint  of  the  First  National  Bank 
of  Little  Arcady.  The  crowd,  pressing  closer,  was 
cheerfully  animated.  From  down  the  street  on  both 
sides  anxious  looks  were  bent  upon  the  scene  by 
many  of  our  leading  citizens. 

"  'To  Whom  it  May  Concern,'  "  began  the  Colonel, 
in  a  voice  that  carried  to  the  confines  of  our  business 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS   29 

centre  ;  "  '  The  determination  of  our  esteemed  citizen, 
Colonel  J.  Rodney  Potts,  to  remove  from  our  town 
makes  it  fitting  that  I  record  my  high  appreciation  of 
his  character  as  a  man  and  his  unusual  attainments 
as  a  lawyer.  His  going  will  be  a  grievous  loss  to  our 
community,  atoned  for  only  by  the  knowledge  that  he 
will  better  himself  in  a  field  of  richer  opportunities. 
He  has  proved  himself  to  possess  in  full  measure  those 
qualities  which  go  to  the  making  of  the  best  Ameri 
can  citizenship,  and  these,  as  exercised  in  our  behalf 
during  his  all  too-short  sojourn  among  us,  entitle  him 
to  be  cordially  commended  as  worthy  of  all  trust  in 
any  position  to  which  he  may  aspire.  Very  sincerely, 
A.  Bundy,  President.'  " 

Again  and  again  the  crowd  cheered,  and  there  were 
encouraging  calls  for  Bundy  ;  but  the  First  National 
Bank  stolidly  preserved  its  Sabbath  front. 

A  moment  later  the  Colonel  was  leading  his  stead 
fast  cohort  across  the  street  again.  Marvin  Chislett 
had  unwarily  peeped  from  inside  the  door  of  his  mer 
cantile  establishment.  There  was  but  time  to  turn 
the  key  and  draw  the  curtains  before  the  procession 
halted.  Such  behavior  may  have  perplexed  Potts, 
but  daunt  him  it  could  not.  From  Chislett's  top  step 
he  read  Chislett's  letter  to  the  delighted  throng,  a 
letter  in  which  Potts  was  said  to  bear  an  unblemished 
reputation,  and  to  be  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar, 
amply  meriting  any  trust  that  might  be  reposed  in  him. 

From  Chislett's  they  moved  on  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  Argus  office.  Potts  sent  Big  Joe 


30  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

up  for  twenty-five  copies  of  the  latest  number,  and, 
standing  on  the  coal  box,  he  gallantly  distributed 
these  to  the  crowd  as  it  filed  before  him,  intoning 
from  memory,  meantime,  snatches  of  the  eulogy, 
while  the  crowd  flourished  the  papers  and  gurgled 
noisily. 

A  brief  plunge  into  the  lethal  flood  at  Skeyhan's, 
and  they  came  once  more  abroad,  this  time  closing 
the  Boston  Cash  Store  most  expeditiously.  Potts, 
enthroned  upon  a  big  box  in  front,  among  bolts  of 
muslin,  straw  hats,  and  bunches  of  innocent  early 
lettuce,  read  the  splendid  tribute  of  the  store's  pro 
prietor  to  his  capacity  as  an  expert  in  jurisprudence 
and  his  fitness  for  a  seat  of  judicial  honor.  The  bank 
and  Chislett's  being  still  closed,  the  little  street,  ex 
cept  in  the  near  vicinity  of  Potts,  began  to  sleep  in  a 
strange  calm. 

There  were  other  doors  to  conquer,  however,  and 
Potts,  at  the  head  of  his  Argus-waving  crowd  of 
degenerates,  vanquished  them  all. 

Up  and  down  he  wandered  busily,  doors  closing 
and  curtains  falling  swiftly  at  his  approach.  Then 
would  he  turn  majestically,  and  say,  with  a  hand 
raised,  "  My  friends,  a  moment's  silence,  while  I  read 
you  this  magnificent  tribute  from  one  who  is  unfortu 
nately  not  among  us." 

He  was  so  impressive  with  this  that  at  last  the 
crowd  would  remove  hats  at  each  reading,  to  the 
Colonel's  manifest  approval.  The  doffed  hat  and 
the  clutched  Argus  became  the  mark  of  his  drink- 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  COLONEL  POTTS   31 

bought  serfs.  By  four  o'clock  the  only  hospitable 
doorways  on  the  street  were  those  of  the  three  saloons. 
Our  leading  business  men  were  departing  from  their 
establishments  by  back  doors  and  the  secrecy  of 
gracious  alleys. 

From  Skeyhan's  to  Hoffmuller's,  from  Hoffmuller's 
to  the  City  Hotel,  the  crowd  sang  and  shouted  its 
irregular  progress,  the  air  being  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  Colonel  unhappily 
caught  a  glimpse  of  myself  through  the  window  of 
the  hotel.  A  glad  light  came  into  his  eyes,  and  at 
once  he  searched  among  the  letters,  crying,  mean 
while  :  "  My  brother  in  arms  !  A  younger  brother, 
but  a  gallant  officer,  none  the  less  —  " 

I  knew  that  he  sought  my  letter.  Egress  from  the 
City  Hotel  may  be  achieved,  when  desirable,  by  a  side 
door,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  Potts  that  day.  I  believe 
my  letter  spoke  of  him  as  an  able  and  graceful 
pleader,  meriting  judicial  honors,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  I  had  forgotten  its  exact  words,  but  I  did  not 
wish  to  hear  Potts  read  them.  So  I  fled  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  that  eventful  day  quietly  among  rose 
bushes  and  tender,  budding  hyacinths,  unspotted  of 
the  world,  receiving,  however,  occasional  bulletins  of 
the  orgy  from  passers-by.  From  these  and  sundry 
narratives  gleaned  the  following  day,  I  was  able  to 
trace  the  later  hours  of  this  scandalous  saturnalia. 

By  six  o'clock  Potts  had  spent  all  his  money.  By 
six-fifteen  this  fact  could  no  longer  be  concealed,  and 
such  of  his  following  as  had  not  already  fallen  by  the 


32  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

wayside  crept,  one  by  one,  to  rest.  They  left  the 
Colonel  dreamily,  murmurously  happy  in  a  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  City  Hotel  bar. 

Here  he  was  discovered  about  six-thirty  by  Eustace 
Eubanks,  who  had  incautiously  thought  to  rebuke  him. 

"  For  shame,  Colonel  Potts ! "  began  Eustace, 
seeking  to  fix  the  uncertain  eyes  with  his  finger  of 
scorn.  "  For  shame  to  have  squandered  all  that 
money  for  rum.  Don't  you  know,  sir,  that  a  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  men  die  yearly  in  our  land  from 
the  effects  of  rum?  " 

"  Hundred  sixty  thousand  !  "  mused  the  Colonel, 
in  polite  amazement.  "  Well,  well,  figures  can't  lie  ! 
What  of  it?" 

"  You  have  dishonestly  spent  that  money  given  to 
you  in  sacred  trust." 

This  seemed  to  arouse  Potts,  and  he  surveyed 
Eubanks  with  more  curiosity  than  delight.  He  arose, 
buttoned  his  coat,  fixed  his  hat  firmly  upon  his  head, 
and  took  up  his  stick  and  bag.  He  put  upon  Eustace 
a  glance  of  dignified  urbanity,  as  he  spoke. 

"I  don't  know  who  you  are,  sir,  —  never  saw  you 
before  in  my  life, — but  I  have  done  what  every  good 
citizen  should  do.  I  have  spent  my  money  at  home. 
This  is  a  cheap  place,  full  of  cheap  men.  What  the 
town  needs,  sir,  is  capital  —  capital  to  develop  its 
attributes  and  industries.  It  needs  more  men  with 
the  public  spirit  of  J.  Rodney,  sir.  I  bid  you  good 
evening  !  Ah,  this  has  been  indeed  a  beautiful  day  !  " 

He  walked  out.     Those  who  watched  him  until  he 


THE  GOLDEN  DAY  OF  CAPTAIN  POTTS   33 

turned  out  of  Main  Street  into  Fourth,  and  so  toward 
the  river,  aver  —  marvelling  duly  at  his  powers  of  re 
sistance  —  that  the  head  of  Potts  was  erect,  his  gaze 
bent  aloft,  and  his  gait  one  of  perfect  directness  save 
that  he  stepped  a  little  high. 

I  like  to  think  of  him  in  that  last  walk.  I  like  to 
bring  up  as  nearly  as  I  can  his  intense  exaltation.  It 
had  been  a  beautiful  day.  And  now,  as  he  looked 
aloft,  walking  with  an  automatic  precision,  his  eyes 
must  have  beheld  glorious  vistas,  in  which  he  rode  a 
chariot  of  triumph  at  the  head  of  a  splendid  proces 
sion,  while  his  ears  rang  with  chaste  tributes  to  his 
worth  trumpeted  by  outriding  heralds.  And  the 
good  earth  was  firm  beneath  his  tread,  stretching 
broadly  off  for  him  to  walk  upon  and  behold  his 
apotheosis. 

I  cannot  wonder  that  he  stepped  high,  nor  can  I 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  begrudge  him  his  day.  Cun 
ningly  had  he  clutched  a  few  golden  moments  from 
the  hoard  that  Fate,  the  niggard,  guards  from  us  so 
jealously.  To  myself  I  acclaimed  him  as  one  to  be 
envied. 

I  have  always  liked  to  believe  that  the  splendors  of 
that  last  walk  endured  to  the  end  —  that  there  was  no 
uncertainty,  no  hesitation,  above  all,  no  vulgar  stum 
bling  ;  but  that  the  last  high  step,  which  plunged  him 
into  the  chill  waters  of  the  race,  was  lifted  in  the  same 
exulting  serenity  as  the  first. 

I  stood  in  my  garden  that  evening,  charmed  by  the 
wild,  sweet,  gusty-gentle  music  of  the  spring  night. 


34  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Northward,  in  the  gathering  dusk,  came  a  solitary 
figure  walking  rapidly  —  a  slight,  nervous  figure,  a  soft 
hat  drawn  well  over  the  face,  the  skirts  of  its  coat 
streaming  to  the  breeze.  As  it  passed  me,  I  recog 
nized  Solon  Denney.  He  was  gesticulating  with 
some  violence,  and  I  could  see  his  expressive  face 
work  as  if  he  uttered  words  to  himself.  I  thought  it 
possible  that  he  might  be  composing  a  piece  for  his 
newspaper.  Instantly  there  came  to  my  mind  that 
rather  coarse  paraphrase  of  Westley  Keyts — "A 
hand  of  mush  in  a  glove  of  the  same  !  " 

I  did  not  intrude  upon  my  friend  as  he  passed. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    PERFECT    LOVER 

To  the  crime  of  being  Potts  the  wretched  Colonel 
had  now  added  malversation  of  a  trust  fund.  But 
I  crave  surcease,  while  it  may  be  mine,  from  the 
immediately  troubling  waters  of  Potts.  Let  me  turn 
more  broadly  to  our  town  and  its  good  people  for 
that  needed  recreation  which  they  never  fail  to  afford 
me. 

"  Arcady  of  the  Little  Country,"  we  often  say. 
On  maps  it  is  Little  Arcady,  county  seat  of  Slocum 
County,  an  isle  and  haven  in  the  dreary  land  sea  that 
flattens  away  from  it  on  every  side,  —  north  to  the 
big  woods,  south  to  the  swamp  counties,  and  east  and 
west,  one  might  almost  say,  a  thousand  miles  to  the 
mountains.  Our  point  is  one  from  which  to  say  either 
"back  Er.: '  "  or  "out  West."  It  is  neither,  of  itself, 
though  it  touches  both. 

We  are  so  ancient  that  plenty  of  us  remember  the 
stone  fireplace  in  the  log-cabin,  with  its  dusters 
for  the  hearth  of  buffalo  tail  and  wild-turkey  wing, 
with  iron  pot  hung  by  a  chain  from  the  chimney 
hook,  with  pewter  or  wooden  plates  from  which  to 
eat  with  horn-handled  knives  and  iron  spoons.  But 
yet  are  we  so  modern  that  we  have  fine  new  houses 

35 


36  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

with  bay  windows,  ornamental  cupolas,  and  porches 
raving  woodenly  in  that  frettish  fever  which  the  in 
famous  scroll-saw  put  upon  fifty  years  of  our  land's 
domestic  architecture.  And  these  houses  are  fur 
nished  with  splendid  modern  furniture,  even  with 
black  walnut,  gold  touched  and  upholstered  in  blue 
plush  and  maroon,  fresh  from  the  best  factories.  Our 
fairly  old  people  remember  when  they  hunted  deer 
and  were  hunted  by  the  red  Indian  on  our  town  site, 
while  their  grandchildren  have  only  the  memories  of 
the  town-born,  of  the  cottage-organ,  the  novel  rail 
road,  and  the  two-story  brick  block  with  ornamental 
false  front.  In  short,  we  round  an  epoch  within  our 
selves,  historically  and  socially. 

The  country,  however,  keeps  its  first  purity  of 
charm,  a  country  of  little  hills  and  little  valleys  lined 
with  little  quick  rivers.  These  beauties,  indeed,  have 
not  gone  unsung.  Years  ago  a  woman  poet  eased 
her  heart  of  ecstasies  about  this  Little  Country. 

"  Here  swells  the  river  in  its  boldest  course,"  she 
wrote,  "interspersed  by  halcyon  isles  on  which 
Nature  has  lavished  all  her  prodigality  in  tree,  vine, 
and  flower,  banked  by  noble  bluffs  three  hundred  feet 
high,  their  sharp  ridges  as  exquisitely  definite  as  the 
edge  of  a  shell ;  their  summits  adorned  with  those 
same  beautiful  trees  and  with  buttresses  of  rich  rock, 
crested  with  old  hemlocks  that  wear  a  touching  and 
antique  grace  amid  the  softer  and  more  luxuriant 
vegetation." 

Not  spectacular,  this  —  not  sensational  —  not  even 


THE   PERFECT   LOVER  37 

unusual.  Common  enough  little  hills,  as  the  world 
goes,  with  the  usual  ragged-edged  village  between 
them  and  the  river,  peopled  by  human  beings  en 
tirely  usual  both  in  their  outer  and  inner  lives.  It 
seems  to  be,  indeed,  not  a  place  in  which  events 
could  occur  with  any  romantic  fitness. 

Perhaps  I  have  grown  to  love  this  Little  Country 
because  I  am  a  usual  man.  Perhaps  I  would  have 
felt  as  much  for  it  even  had  I  not  been  held  to  it  by 
a  memory  that  would  bind  me  to  any  spot  howsoever 
unlovely.  But  I  rejoiced  always  in  its  beauty,  and 
more  than  ever  when  it  made  easier  for  me  the  only 
life  it  once  appeared  that  I  should  live.  I  quote 
again  from  our  visiting  poet :  "  The  aspect  of  this 
country  was  to  me  enchanting  beyond  any  I  have 
ever  seen,  from  its  fulness  of  expression,  its  bold  and 
impassioned  sweetness.  Here  the  flood  has  passed 
over  and  marked  everywhere  its  course  by  a  smile. 
The  fragments  of  rock  touch  it  with  a  mildness  and 
liberality  which  give  just  the  needed  relief.  I  should 
never  be  tired  here,  though  I  have  elsewhere  seen 
country  of  more  secret  and  alluring  charms,  better 
calculated  to  stimulate  and  suggest.  Here  the  eye 
and  heart  are  filled." 

Here,  too,  my  eye  and  heart  were  filled —  emptied 
—  and  wondrously  filled  yet  again,  for  which  last  I 
hold  Potts  to  be  curiously  —  but  I  wander. 

Enough  to  say  that  I  stored  a  harvest  of  memories 
in  a  secret  place  here  years  ago.  And  I  went  to  this 
on  days  when  I  was  downhearted. 


38  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Your  boy  of  fifteen,  I  think,  is  the  only  perfect 
lover — giving  all,  demanding  nothing,  save,  indeed, 
the  right  to  his  secret  cherishings. 

Tremors,  born  within  me  that  day  when  old  gray, 
bristling  Leggett,  our  Principal,  opened  the  school 
room  door  upon  Lucy  Tait,  are  as  poignant,  as  sweetly 
terrible,  now  as  in  that  far  time  when  the  light  of  her 
wondrous  presence  first  fell  upon  me. 

An  instant  she  hesitated  timidly  in  the  sombre  frame 
of  the  doorway,  looking  far  over  our  heads.  Then 
old  Leggett  came  in  front  of  her.  There  was  a  word 
of  presentation  to  Miss  Berham,  our  teacher,  the 
vision  was  escorted  to  a  seat  at  my  left  front,  and  I  was 
bade  to  continue  the  reading  lesson  if  I  ever  expected 
to  learn  anything.  As  a  matter  of  truth  I  did  not 
expect  to  learn  anything  more.  I  thought  I  must 
suddenly  have  learned  all  there  is  to  know.  The  page 
of  the  ancient  reader  over  which  I  then  mumbled 
is  now  before  me.  "A  Good  Investment "  was  the 
title  of  the  day's  lesson,  and  I  had  been  called  upon 
to  render  the  first  paragraph.  With  lightness,  un- 
recking  the  great  moment  so  perilously  at  hand,  I  had 
begun  :  "  '  Will  you  lend  me  two  thousand  dollars  to 
establish  myself  in  a  small  retail  business  ? '  inquired 
a  young  man,  not  yet  out  of  his  teens  of  a  middle- 
aged  gentleman  who  was  poring  over  his  ledger  in 
the  counting  room  of  one  of  the  largest  establishments 
in  Boston." 

The  iron  latch  rattled,  the  door  swung  fatefully 
back,  our  heads  were  raised,  our  eyes  bored  her 
through  and  through. 


THE   PERFECT   LOVER  39 

Then  swung  a  new  world  for  me  out  of  primeval 
chaos,  and  for  aeons  of  centuries  I  dizzied  myself  gaz 
ing  upon  the  pyrotechnic  marvel. 

"  Continue,  Calvin  !  —  if  you  ever  expect  to  learn 
anything." 

The  fabric  of  my  vision  crumbled.  Awake,  I  glared 
upon  a  page  where  the  words  ran  crazily  about  like  a 
disrupted  colony  of  ants.  I  stammered  at  the  thing, 
feeling  my  cheeks  blaze,  but  no  two  words  would  stay 
still  long  enough  to  be  related.  I  glanced  a  piteous 
appeal  to  authority,  while  old  Leggett,  still  standing 
by,  crumpled  his  shaven  upper  lip  into  a  professional 
sneer  that  I  did  not  like. 

"  That  will  do,  Calvin.  Sit  down  !  Solon  Denney, 
you  may  go  on." 

With  careless  confidence,  brushing  the  long  brown 
lock  from  his  fair  brow,  came  Solon  Denney  to  his 
feet.  With  flawless  self-possession  he  read,  and  I, 
disgraced,  cowering  in  my  seat,  heard  words  that 
burned  little  inconsequential  brands  forever  into  my 
memory.  Well  do  I  recall  that  the  middle-aged 
gentleman  regarded  the  young  man  with  a  look  of 
surprise,  and  inquired,  "  What  security  can  you  give 
me  ?  "  to  which  the  latter  answered,  "  Nothing  but  my 
note." 

" '  Which  I  fear  would  be  below  par  in  the  market,' 
replied  the  merchant,  smiling. 

"  '  Perhaps  so,'  said  the  young  man,  'but,  Mr.  Bar 
ton,  remember  that  the  boy  is  not  the  man ;  the  time 
may  come  when  Hiram  Strosser's  note  will  be  as 
readily  accepted  as  that  of  any  other  man.' 


40  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

" '  True,  very  true,'  replied  Mr.  Barton,  thought 
fully,  'but  you  know  business  men  seldom  lend  money 
without  adequate  security  ;  otherwise  they  might  soon 
be  reduced  to  penury.'  " 

"  Benny  Jeliffe,  you  may  go  on  !  " 

During  this  break  I  stole  my  second  look  at  her. 
The  small  head  was  sweetly  bent  with  an  air  of 
studious  absorption  —  a  head  with  two  long  plaits  of 
braided  gold,  a  scarlet  satin  bow  at  the  end  of 
each. 

It  seems  to  me  now  that  these  bows  were  like  the 
touch  of  frosted  woodbine  in  a  yellowing  elm,  though 
at  the  moment  I  must  have  been  unequal  to  this 
fancy.  I  saw,  too,  the  tiny  chain  that  clasped  her 
fair  throat,  her  dress  of  pale  blue,  and,  most  wonder 
ful  of  all,  two  tassels  that  danced  from  the  tops  of 
her  trim  little  boots.  The  air  was  indeed  too  heavy 
with  beauty.  But  the  reading  lesson  continued. 

The  years  that  stretch  between  that  time  and  this 
have  not  bereaved  me  of  the  knowledge  that  Mr. 
Barton  graciously  accommodated  Hiram  Strosser,  after 
vainly  seeking  to  induce  "  Mr.  Hawley,  a  wealthy 
merchant  of  Milk  Street,"  to  share  half  the  risk. 

At  this  point  a  row  of  stars  on  the  page  indicated 
a  lapse  of  ten  years.  Mr.  Barton,  "  pale  and  agi 
tated,"  examines  with  deepening  despair,  "page  after 
page  of  his  ponderous  ledger."  At  last  he  exclaims, 
"  I  am  ruined,  utterly  ruined  !  "  "  How  so  ?  "  in 
quires  Hiram  Strosser,  who  enters  the  room  just  in 
time  to  hear  the  cry.  Mr.  Barton  explains,  —  the 


THE  PERFECT   LOVER  41 

failure  of  Perleg,  Jackson  &  Co.  of  London  —  news 
brought  on  last  steamer  —  creditors  pressing  him. 

"  '  What  amount  would  tide  you  over  this  crisis  ? ' 
asks  Hiram  Strosser,  respectfully. 

"  '  Seventy-five  thousand  dollars  ! ' 

" '  Then,  sir,  you  shall  have  it,'  replied  Hiram,  and 
stepping  to  the  desk  he  drew  a  check  for  the  full 
amount." 

Nor  can  I  ever  forget  the  stroke  of  poetic  justice 
with  which  the  anecdote  concluded.  Mr.  Hawley  of 
Milk  Street  was  also  embarrassed  by  the  failure  of 
Perleg,  Jackson  &  Co.,  but,  for  want  of  a  trustful 
friend  in  funds,  was  thrown  into  bankruptcy.  Mr. 
Barton  had  the  chastened  pleasure  of  telling  Mr. 
Hawley  about  Hiram's  loan,  and  of  reminding  him 
that  he  had  neglected  a  fair  opportunity  to  become 
a  co-benefactor  of  that  upright  and  open-handed 
youth  ;  whereupon  the  ruined  Hawley  —  deservedly 
ruined,  the  tale  implied  —  "  moved  on,  dejected  and 
sad,  while  Mr.  Barton  returned  to  his  establishment 
cheered  and  animated." 

The  gross,  the  immoral  romanticism  of  this  tale 
was  not  then,  of  course,  apparent  to  me.  Children 
are  so  defenceless !  Child  that  I  was,  I  believed  it 
would  be  entirely  practicable  for  a  lad  in  his  teens 
to  borrow  two  thousand  dollars  from  a  Boston  mer 
chant,  by  reminding  him  that  the  boy  is  not  the  man. 
So  readily  is  the  young  mind  poisoned.  During  the 
latter  part  of  the  lesson,  between  looks  stolen  fear 
fully  at  her  profile,  I  was  mentally  engaged  in  bor- 


42  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

rowing  two  thousand  dollars  from  a  convenient  Mr. 
Barton  with  which  to  establish  myself  in  a  small 
retail  business  —  preferably  a  candy  store  with  an 
ice-cream  parlor  in  the  rear.  Then  I  took  her  to  wife, 
not  forgetting  to  reward  Mr.  Barton  handsomely  in 
the  day  of  his  ruin.  Dimly,  in  the  background  of  this 
hasty  dramatization,  the  distrustful  Mr.  Hawley,  who 
refused  to  share  the  loan  with  Mr.  Barton,  figured  as 
a  rival  for  my  love's  hand ;  and  lived  to  hear  her  say 
that  she  hated,  loathed,  and  despised  him. 

At  recess  the  others  crowded  about  her,  girls  at 
the  centre,  within  a  straggling  circumference  of  young 
males,  who  dissembled  their  gallantry  under  a  pretence 
of  being  mere  brutal  marauders. 

But  I,  solitary,  moped  and  gloomed  in  a  far  grassy 
corner  of  the  school  yard.  I  could  not  be  of  that 
crowd,  and  it  was  then  I  perceived  for  the  first  time 
that  the  world  was  too  densely  populated.  I  saw 
how  much  better  it  would  be  if  every  one  but  she  and 
I  were  dead.  Thereupon,  in  a  breath,  I  dispeopled 
the  earth  of  all  but  us  two,  and  with  the  courage 
gained  of  this  solitude,  I  saw  myself  approach  her 
there  at  the  corner  of  the  old  brick  schoolhouse, 
greeting  her  with  assurances  that  everything  was  all 
right,  —  and  then,  after  she  understood  what  I  had 
done,  and  how  fine  it  was,  we  came  into  our  own. 
Alas,  how  bitter  the  crude  truth !  Instead  of  this, 
those  wondrous  tassels  now  danced  from  her  boot 
tops  as  she  gave  chase  to  Solon  Denney,  who  had 
pulled  one  of  the  scarlet  bows  from  its  yellow  braid. 


THE   PERFECT   LOVER  43 

Grimly  I  was  aware  that  he  should  be  the  first  to  go 
out  of  the  world,  and  I  called  upon  a  just  heaven 
to  slay  him  as  he  fled  with  his  trophy.  But  nothing 
sweet  and  fitting  happened.  He  went  unblasted. 

She  came  back  to  the  group  of  girls,  flushed  and 
lovely  beyond  compare,  holding  up  the  ravished  end 
of  that  golden  braid  with  a  comic  dismay,  while  her 
despoiler  laughed  coarsely  from  a  distance  and  pinned 
the  trophy  to  his  coat  lapel.  I  now  saw  that  blasting 
was  too  merciful.  He  should  be  removed  by  a  slower 
process  if  the  thing  could  as  easily  be  arranged. 

That  was  a  bitter  recess,  even  though  I  learned 
her  wonderful  name  and  the  enchanted  state  "  back 
East"  from  which  she  had  come.  A  still  more  bitter 
experience  awaited  me  when  we  were  again  in  the 
schoolroom.  Miss  Berham,  fastening  a  steely  gaze 
upon  Solon  Denney,  launched  heaven  upon  him  from 
tightly  drawn  lips,  without  in  the  least  meaning  to 
do  so. 

"  Solon  Denney,  you  may  return  that  ribbon  at  once 
to  its  owner!  " 

With  a  conscious  smirk,  amid  the  titters  of  the 
room  and  the  sharp  raps  of  the  ruler  on  Miss  Ber- 
ham's  desk,  Solon  swaggered  offensively  to  the  seat 
that  enshrined  my  idol,  and  flung  down  the  scarlet 
treasure  before  her.  She  merely  pushed  the  thing 
away,  bending  her  head  lower  above  her  book  — 
pushed  it  away  with  a  blind  little  hand,  and  with  un- 
diminished  bravado  her  despoiler  returned,  scathless 
of -heaven's  vengeance,  to  his  seat. 


44  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  And  you  may  remain  half  an  hour  after  school. 
The  A-class,  ready  for  geography !  " 

Thus  lightly  did  our  ruler  turn  from  tragedy  to 
comedy.  For  tragedy,  there  was  the  look  my  queen 
lavished  upon  Solon  when  she  heard  his  sentence ;  a 
look  of  blushing  merriment,  with  a  maddening  dash 
of  pity  in  it,  —  he  was  to  suffer  because  of  her. 
"  'Twas  your  beauty  made  me  do  it,"  he  might  have 
quoted,  with  the  old  result.  How  I  longed  for  the 
jaunty  lightness  that  would  have  let  me  do  a  thing 
like  that,  tossing  me  fairly  to  the  pinnacle  of  a  public 
association  with  her !  But  I,  instead,  moped  alone, 
knowing  well  that  the  gifts  of  graceful  brigandage 
were  not  mine.  Had  /  snatched  that  ribbon,  there 
had  been  tears  and  a  mad  outcry  at  my  brutal  rough 
ness. 

Now  came  the  lesson  in  geography.  I  had  known 
it,  had  studied  it  faithfully  that  morning.  It  treated 
of  the  state  from  which  she  had  so  lately  come.  But 
now  all  knowledge  of  it  fled  me  save  that  on  the  map 
it  was  a  large,  clumsy  state,  though  yellow,  the  color 
of  her  hair.  Was  it  to  be  bounded  like  any  cheaper 
state  ?  Did  it  have  principal  products,  like  Maine, 
New  Hampshire,  Vermont,  and  other  ordinary  states  ? 
Its  color  was  rightly  golden  ;  had  it  not  produced  her  ? 
but  other  products,  —  iron,  coal,  wheat,  —  these  were 
stuffs  too  base  to  fellow  in  the  same  mind  with  her. 
Had  it  principal  industries,  like  any  red  or  green  or 
blue  state  on  that  pedantic  map  ?  I  could  no  longer 
recall  them.  Formally  confronted  with  this  problem, 


THE   PERFECT   LOVER  45 

I  muttered  shamefully  again  that  day  in  the  valley  of 
Humiliation.  There  was,  I  knew,  a  picture  at  the 
top  of  the  page  in  which  strong,  rugged  men  toiled 
at  various  tasks  ;  but  the  natures  of  these  had  escaped 
me.  Were  they  mining  coal  or  building  ships,  catch 
ing  fish  or  ploughing  furrows  in  God's  green  earth  ? 
Out  of  my  darkness  I  stammered,  "  Principal  indus 
tries,  agriculture  and  fish-building  — 

"That  will  do,  Calvin!  You  may  remain  after 
school  to-night."  I  had  never  less  liked  the  way  she 
said  this,  as  if  it  were  a  boon  at  which  I  would  snatch, 
instead  of  a  penalty  imposed. 

Solon  Denney  followed  me,  glibly  enumerating  the 
industries  of  a  great  and  busy  state.  But  I  could  not 
listen.  Phantom-like  in  my  poor  mind  floated  a 
wordless  conviction  that,  however  it  might  once  have 
been,  the  state  would  immediately  abandon  its  in 
dustries  now  that  she  had  come  away  from  it.  I 
beheld  its  considerable  area  desolated,  the  forges 
cold,  the  hammers  stilled,  the  fields  overgrown,  the 
ships  rotting  at  their  docks,  the  stalwart  mechanics 
drooping  idly  above  their  unfinished  tasks.  It  was 
not  possible  to  suppose  that  any  one  could  feel,  in  a 
state  which  she  had  left,  that  interest  which  good 
work  demands. 

My  disgrace  brought  me  respite  for  fresh  adven 
ture.  I  was  let  alone.  The  world  could  still  be 
peopled  ;  even  Solon  Denney  might  survive  a  little 
time,  for  another  picture  in  the  same  geography  now 
reproduced  itself  in  my  inflamed  mind  —  the  picture 


46  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

of  a  South  Sea  island,  a  sandy  beach  with  a  few 
indolent  natives  lolling,  negligent  of  tasks,  in  the 
shade  of  cocoanut  palms.  Here,  on  the  outer  reef, 
I  wrecked  an  excellent  steamship.  Over  the  rail 
sprang  a  stalwart  lad,  not  out  of  his  teens,  with  a 
lovely  golden-haired  girl  in  his  arms.  With  strong, 
swift  strokes,  he  struck  out  for  the  beach,  notwith 
standing  his  burden.  The  other  passengers,  a  hazy 
and  quite  uninteresting  lot,  quickly  went  down ;  all  save 
one,  a  coarse,  swaggering  youth  with  too  much  self- 
possession  whom  I  need  not  name.  He,  too,  sprang 
over  the  rail,  but,  nearing  the  beach,  a  justly  enraged 
providence  intervened  and  he  was  bitten  neatly  in 
two  by  a  famished  and  adroit  shark. 

With  some  interest  I  watched  his  blood  stain  the 
lucid  green  waters,  but  it  was  soon  over.  Then  I 
bore  my  fainting  burden  to  the  dry  sands  and  revived 
her  with  cocoanut  milk  and  breadfruit,  while  the 
natives  crowded  respectfully  about  and  made  us  their 
king  and  queen  on  the  spot.  We  lived  there  forever. 
How  flat  of  sound  were  it  to  say  that  we  lived 
happily  ! 

And  yet  I  doubt  if  Solon  Denney  ever  suspected 
me  of  aspiring  to  be  his  rival.  She,  I  think,  knew 
it  full  well,  in  the  way  her  sex  knows  matters  not 
communicated  by  act  or  word  of  mouth.  And  once, 
on  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  a  Friday,  when  we 
spoke  pieces,  I  feared  that  Solon  had  found  me  out. 
He  was  a  fiery  orator,  and  I  felt  on  this  occasion  that 
he  delivered  himself  straight  at  me,  with  a  very 


THE   PERFECT   LOVER  47 

poorly  veiled  malignance.  Surely  it  must  be  I  he 
meant,  literally,  when  he  thundered  out,  "  Sir,  you 
are  much  mistaken  if  you  think  your  talents  have 
been  as  great  as  your  life  has  been  reprehensible." 
Full  upon  me  and  upon  me  alone  seemed  to  flash  his 
gaze. 

"After  a  rank  and  clamorous  opposition  you  be 
came  —  on  a  sudden  —  silent ;  you  were  silent  for 
seven  years  ;  you  were  silent  on  the  greatest  ques 
tions  —  and  you  were  silent  for  money  !  " 

There  could  be  no  doubt,  I  thought,  that  he  singled 
me  from  the  multitude  of  his  auditors.  It  was  I  who 
had  supported  the  unparalleled  profusion  and  jobbing 
of  Lord  Harcourt's  scandalous  ministry,  I  who  had 
manufactured  stage  thunder  against  Mr.  Eden  for  his 
anti-American  principles  —  "You,  sir,  whom  it  pleases 
to  chant  a  hymn  to  the  immortal  Hampden — you, 
sir,  approved  of  the  tyranny  exercised  against  Amer 
ica,  and  you,  sir,  voted  four  thousand  Irish  troops  to 
cut  the  throats  of  the  Americans  — 

Under  the  burden  of  this  imputed  ignominy,  was  it 
remarkable  that  I  faltered  in  my  own  piece  imme 
diately  following  ? 

"  The  Warrior  bowed  his  crested  head,  and  tamed  his  heart  of 

fire 
And  sued  the  haughty  King  to  free  his  long  imprisoned  sire." 

Not  more  foully  was  the  blameless  Don  Sancho 
done  to  death  than  I  upon  this  Friday  murdered  the 
ballad  that  recounts  his  fate.  And  she,  who  had 


48  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

hung  breathless  on  Solon's  denunciations  of  me, 
whispered  chattily  with  Eva  Mclntyre  during  my 
rendition  of  "  Bernardo  del  Carpio." 

Later  events,  however,  convinced  me  that  I  swam 
never  in  Solon's  ken  as  a  rival  for  her  smiles.  His 
own  triumph  was  too  easy,  too  widely  heralded.  In 
the  second  week  of  her  coming,  was  there  not  a 
rhyme  shouted  on  the  playground,  full  in  the  hearing 
of  both  ? 

"  First  the  post  and  then  the  gate, 
Solon  Denney  and  Lucy  Tait." 

Was  not  this  followed  by  one  more  subtle,  more 
pointed,  more  ribald  ? 

"  Solon's  mad  and  I'm  glad, 
And  I  know  what  will  please  him ; 
A  bottle  of  wine  to  make  him  shine 
And  Lucy  Tait  to  tease  him ! " 

I  thought  there  was  an  inhuman,  a  devilish  deft 
ness  in  the  rhymes.  The  mighty  mechanism  of 
English  verse  had  been  employed  to  proclaim  my 
remoteness  from  my  love. 

And  yet  the  gods  were  once  graciously  good  to  me. 
One  wondrous  evening  before  hope  died  utterly  I 
survived  the  ordeal  of  walking  home  with  her  from 
church. 

She  came  with  her  uncle  and  aunt,  and  I,  present 
by  the  gods'  permission,  surmised  that  she  might 
leave  them  and  go  to  her  own  home  alone  when 
church  was  out.  Through  that  service  I  worshipped 


THE    PERFECT    LOVER  49 

her  golden  braids  and  the  pink  roses  on  her  leghorn 
hat.  And  when  they  sang,  "  Praise  God  from  whom 
all  blessings  flow!  "  my  voice  soared  fervently  in  the 
words,  for  I  had  satisfied  myself  by  much  craning  of 
the  neck  that  Solon  Denney  was  not  present.  Even 
now  the  Doxology  revives  within  me  that  mixed  emo 
tion  of  relief  at  his  absence  and  apprehension  for  the 
approaching  encounter  with  her. 

She  passed  me  at  the  portals  of  that  house  of  a 
double  worship,  said  good  night  to  aunt  and  uncle  — 
and  I  was  at  her  side. 

"  May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  home  ? " 

She  managed  a  timid  "  Certainly  !  "  her  hand  flut 
tered  within  my  arm,  and  my  heart  bounded  forward 
like  a  freed  race-horse.  We  walked  ! 

Now  it  had  been  my  occupation  at  quiet  moments 
to  devise  conversation  against  the  time  of  this  precise 
miracle.  I  had  dreamed  that  it  might  come  to  pass, 
even  as  it  did,  and  I  knew  that  talk  for  it  should  be 
stored  safely  away.  This  talk  had  been  the  coinage 
of  my  leisure.  As  we  walked  I  would  say,  lightly,  — 
"  Do  you  like  it  here  as  well  as  you  did  back  East  ?  " 
—  or,  still  better,  as  sounding  more  chatty,  —  "  How 
do  you  like  it  here  ?  "  —  an  easy,  masterful  pause  — 
"  as  well  as  you  did  back  East  ?  "  A  thousand  times 
had  I  rehearsed  the  inflections  until  they  were  per 
fect.  And  now  the  time  was  come. 

Whether  I  spoke  at  all  or  not  until  we  reached 
her  gate  I  have  never  known.  Dimly  in  my  memory 
is  a  suggestion  that  when  we  passed  Uncle  Jerry 


50  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Honeycutt,  I  confided  to  her  that  he  sent  to  Chicago 
for  his  ear-trumpet  and  that  it  cost  twelve  dollars. 
If  I  did  this,  she  must  have  made  a  suitable  response, 
though  I  retain  nothing  of  it. 

I  only  know  that  the  sky  was  full  of  flaming 
meteors,  that  golden  star  dust  rained  upon  us  from 
an  applauding  heaven,  that  the  earth  rocked  gently 
as  we  trod  upon  it. 

Down  the  wonderful  street  we  went,  a  strange 
street  shimmering  in  mystic  light  —  and  then  I  was 
opening  her  gate.  I  afterward  decided  that  surely 
at  this  moment,  with  the  gate  between  us,  I  would 
have  remembered  —  superbly  would  I  have  said, 
"  How  do  you  like  it  here  ?  —  as  well  as  you  did  back 
East?" 

But  two  staring  boys  passed  us,  and  one  of  them 
spoke  thus :  — 

"There's  Horsehead  Blake  —  hello,  Horsehead!" 

"That  ain't  old  Horsehead,"  said  the  other. 

"  'Tis,  too  —  ain't  that  you,  Horsehead  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  do,  boys !  "  I  answered  loftily,  and 
they  passed  on  appeased. 

"  Do  they  call  you  Horsehead  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  I  replied  brightly.  "  It's  a  funny 
name,  isn't  it  ? "  and  I  laughed  murderously. 

"Yes,  it's  very  funny." 

"Well,  I'll  have  to  be  going  now.     Good  night!  " 

"  Good  night !  " 

And  she  left  me  staring  after  her,  the  whole  big 
world  and  its  starry  heavens  crying  madly  within  me 
to  be  said  to  her. 


CHAPTER   IV 

DREAMS    AND    WAKINGS 

THE  incomparable  Lucy  Tait  was  still  but  a  star  to 
be  adored  in  her  distant  heaven  when  I  went  away 
from  Little  Arcady  to  learn  some  things  not  taught 
in  the  faded  brick  schoolhouse.  It  was  six  years 
before  I  came  back ;  six  years  that  I  lived  in  a 
crowded  place  where  people  had  no  easy  ways  nor 
front  yards  with  geranium  beds  nor  knew  enough  of 
their  neighbors  either  to  love  or  to  hate  them. 

I  came  back  to  the  Little  Country  a  mannish  being( 
learned  in  the  law,  and  with  the  right  sort  of  laugh  in 
my  heart  for  the  old  school  days,  for  the  simplicity  of 
my  boy's  love. 

But  there  and  then,  with  her  old  sweet  want  of 
pity,  did  she  smite  me  again.  Through  and  through 
she  smote  the  man  as  she  had  smitten  the  boy. 
Treacherously  it  was,  within  my  own  citadel,  at  the 
very  moment  of  my  coming.  Gayly  up  the  remem 
bered  path  I  went,  under  the  flowering  horse-chest 
nut,  to  the  little  house  standing  back  from  the  street, 
only  to  find  that,  as  of  old,  she  blocked  my  way.  She 
stood  where  the  pink-blossomed  climber  streamed  up 
the-columns  of  the  little  porch,  and  her  arm  was  twined 

51 


52  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

among  the  strands  to  draw  them  to  her  face.  She 
was  leaving  —  but  she  had  stayed  too  long ;  not  the 
child  with  yellow  braids,  humorously  preserved  in  my 
memory,  but  a  blossomed,  a  fruiting  Eve,  with  whilom 
braids  massed  high  in  a  coronet,  their  gold  a  little 
tarnished.  Later  it  came  to  me  to  think  that  she 
was  Spring,  and  had  filched  a  crown  from  Autumn. 
In  that  first  glance,  however,  I  could  only  wonder 
instinctively  if  the  tassels  yet  danced  from  her  boot 
tops.  I  saw  at  once  that  this  might  not  any  longer 
be  known.  One  could  only  surmise  pleasantly.  But 
straightway  was  I  Atlas,  stooping  a  little,  rounding 
my  shoulders  under  the  earth  she  deigned  to  walk 
upon. 

And  the  disconcerting  strangeness  of  it  was  in 
this:  that  though  she  was  no  longer  the  woman 
child,  yet  with  one  flash  of  her  gold-curtained  eyes 
had  she  reduced  me  to  my  ancient  schoolboy 
clumsiness.  She  was  a  woman,  but  I  was  again 
an  awkward,  stammering  boy,  rebelliously  declin 
ing  to  believe  that  a  state  she  had  come  away 
from  could  retain  any  significance,  industrial  or 
otherwise.  Nor,  in  the  little  time  left  to  us,  did  I 
ever  achieve  a  condition  higher  than  this. 

Consciously  I  was  a  prince  of  lofty  origin  in  her 
presence,  but  ever  unable  to  make  known  my  excel 
lencies  of  rank.  It  was  as  in  a  dream  when  we  must 
see  evil  approach  without  power  to  raise  an  averting 
hand. 

She  was  Spring  with  a  stolen  crown  of  Autumn  ; 


DREAMS   AND   WAKINGS  53 

and  again,  she  was  a  sherbet  —  sweet,  fragrant,  cold, 
and  about  to  melt  —  but  not  for  me.  I  knew  that. 

I  heard  presently  that  she  spoke  well  of  me.  She 
spoke  of  my  having  a  kind  face  —  even  the  kindest 
face  in  the  world. 

"The  kindest, plainest  face  in  the  world,"  was  her 
fashion  of  putting  it.  And  of  course  that  made  it 
hopeless,  since,  surely,  no  woman  has  ever  loved  the 
kindest  face  she  knew. 

Only  a  fool  would  have  hoped  after  this  —  and  at 
least  I  never  gave  her  ground  to  call  me  that.  Not 
even  did  I  commit  the  folly  of  revealing  my  need. 
She  alone  ever  knew  it,  and  she  only  in  the  way  that 
the  child  had  known  the  schoolboy  to  gloom  and  rage 
afar  in  his  passion  for  her.  She  had  no  word  of  mine 
for  it  then,  nor  had  she  now,  and  I  believe  she  felt 
rather  certain  there  never  would  be  any.  She  seemed 
to  be  grateful  for  this  and  doubly  kind,  with  only  now 
and  then  the  flash  of  a  knowing  look,  or  the  trifle  of 
a  deep,  swiftly  questioning  glance,  born,  I  dare  say, 
of  that  curiosity  which  the  devil  contrives  to  kindle 
in  God's  most  angelic  women. 

Doubtless  she  had  a  little  speech  of  refusal  patted 
into  kindliness  for  me.  Perhaps  she  would  not  have 
been  wholly  anguished  to  have  me  hear  this  —  to  be 
able  to  assure  me  tenderly,  graciously,  of  the  depth 
and  pureness  of  her  friendship  for  me.  Who  knows  ? 
I  am  older  nowx  and  things  once  hidden  are  revealed. 
Sometimes  I  think  that  a  certain  new  respect  for  me 
grew  within  her  as  the  days  tried  the  metal  of  my 


54  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

silence  —  a  respect,  but  nothing  more.  Her  appre 
ciation  of  my  face  was  too  palpably  without  those 
reservations  that  so  often  cry  louder  than  words. 

So  we  sealed  our  secret,  she  and  I,  in  an  unspoken 
pledge,  and  not  even  Solon  Denney,  so  keen  of  scent 
for  rivals,  ever  divined  it. 

He  called  me  out  with  the  old  boyish  whistle  the 
day  he  confided  to  me  the  tremendous  news  of  his 
engagement.  He  laughed,  foolish  with  joy  as  he  told 
it,  and  I  felt  tingling  in  my  arms  that  old  boyish, 
brute  impulse  to  slay  him  for  the  wretched  ease  of  his 
victory.  But  we  were  men,  so  I  thrust  one  of  those 
rebellious  arms  in  among  the  strands  of  the  creeper, 
where  her  own  arm  had  once  been,  and  laid  the  other 
on  his  shoulder  in  all  friendliness.  This,  while  he  ram 
bled  on  of  the  bigness  of  life,  the  great  future  before 
Arcady  of  the  Little  Country,  the  importance  of  the 
Argus,  which  he  had  just  founded,  and  the  supreme 
excellence  of  that  splendid  mechanism,  the  new  Wash 
ington  hand-press,  installed  the  week  before. 

His  life  was  builded  of  these  many  interests,  of 
her  and  himself  and  his  country  and  his  town.  In 
the  fulness  of  his  heart  he  even  brought  out  the 
latest  Argus  and  read  parts  from  his  obituary  of 
Douglas,  while  I  stood  stupidly  striving  to  realize 
what  I  had  long  known  must  be  true. 

"A  great  man  has  fallen,"  he  read,  declaiming  a 
little,  as  in  our  school  days.  "  Stephen  A.  Douglas 
is  dead.  The  voice  that  so  lately  and  eloquently 
appealed  to  his  countrymen  is  hushed  in  — 


DREAMS   AND   WAKINGS  55 

How  long  he  read  is  uncertain.  But  from  moment 
to  moment  his  tones  would  call  me  back  from  visions, 
and  I  would  vaguely  hear  that  one  was  gone  who 
had  warned  his  fellows  against  the  pitfalls  of  politi 
cal  jealousy,  and  bade  all  who  loved  their  country 
band  against  those  who  would  seek  to  pluck  a  laurel 
from  the  wreath  of  our  glorious  confederacy. 

But  under  visions  I  had  made  my  resolve.  Doug 
las  was  dead,  but  others  were  living. 

Two  months  before  in  a  gray  dawn,  the  walls  of  a 
fort  in  Charleston  Harbor  had  crumbled  under  fire 
from  a  score  of  rebel  batteries.  Now  the  shots 
echoed  in  my  ears  with  a  new  volume. 

"Good  luck,  Solon  —  and  good-by  —  I'm  going 
'  on  to  Richmond.' >: 

"Oh,  that!"  said  he,  easily,  "that  will  be  over 
before  you  can  get  to  the  front." 

But  I  went,  forthwith,  and,  triumphant  lover  though 
he  was,  the  editor  of  the  Little  Arcady  Argus  was 
less  than  a  prophet. 

I  went  to  the  "little"  war;  and  of  her  I  carried, 
as  I  marched,  an  ambrotype  in  a  closed  case,  which 
I  had  obtained  deviously.  She  smiled  in  it,  a  little 
questioning,  inciting  smile,  that  seemed  to  lurk  back 
in  her  eyes  rather  than  along  her  lips.  It  was  the 
smile  that  had  availed  to  keep  me  firm  in  my  vows  of 
silence. 

It  was  another  picture  I  brought  back  five  years 
later  —  the  picture  of  a  young  girl,  not  smiling  but 
grave,  even  fearful,  as  if  she  had  faced  the  camera 


56  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

full  of  apprehension.  But  I  knew  her  not ;  the  thing 
had  come  to  me  by  chance,  and  I  threw  it  aside  to 
be  forgotten. 

It  is  best  to  tell  quickly  that  those  years  were  swift 
and  full.  Early  in  the  second  a  letter  from  Solon, 
read  at  a  random  camp-fire,  told  me  of  my  name 
sake's  coming.  For  the  other  years  I  pleased  myself 
prodigiously  by  remembering  that  she  must  speak 
my  name  openly  to  her  first-born.  And  I  lusted  for 
battle,  then.  I  was  an  early  Norseman,  and  I  would 
escape  the  prosaic  bed-death,  since,  for  those  dying 
thus,  Held  waited  in  her  chill  prison-house  below, 
with  hunger  her  dish,  starvation  her  knife,  care  her 
bed,  and  anguish  her  curtains.  To  survive  for  easy 
death,  long  deferred,  perhaps,  I  should  have  my 
empty  dish  and  bed  of  care  at  once.  Lacking  the 
battle  death,  I  could  at  least  mimic  it,  as  they  did 
of  old,  that  Odin's  choosers  of  the  slain  might  lead 
me  to  Valhalla.  There  should  I  forever  fight  at 
dawn  and  be  healed  at  noon,  if  wounded,  to  be  ready 
for  the  feast  and  song.  The  world  was  not  big 
enough  for  us  two  if  we  must  stay  apart.  Life  was 
not  to  be  lived  in  a  beggarly  and  ignoble  compromise. 
War  was  its  business,  bravery  its  duty,  and  cowardice 
its  greatest  crime  —  above  all,  that  ultimate,  puling 
cowardice  of  accepting  life  empty  for  its  own  bar 
ren  sake. 

At  the  last  I  lay  on  a  cot  in  a  field  hospital,  enter 
tained  for  the  moment  by  the  novelty  of  that  vacant, 
spacious  feeling  on  my  left  side  —  wondering  if  I 


DREAMS   AND   WAKINGS  57 

could  shave  now  with  one  arm  —  without  another 
hand  to  pull  my  face  into  hard  little  hummocks  for 
the  razor. 

I  heard  the  soft  quick  tread  of  a  hospital  steward, 
and  standing  before  me,  he  took  from  its  envelope 
the  letter  Solon  Denney  had  sent  me  to  say  that  she 
was  dead.  I  handed  it  back,  told  him  to  burn  it, 
and  I  shut  my  eyes  to  the  sickening  shapes  of  life. 
My  fever  came  up  again,  and  in  the  night  I  felt  inch 
by  inch  over  ground  wet  with  blood  for  a  picture  I 
had  relinquished  in  a  Quixotic  moment.  I  must 
have  been  troublesome,  for  they  gave  me  the  drug 
of  dreams  and  I  awakened  peacefully.  I  watched 
the  field  surgeons  gather  about  a  young  line  officer 
brought  in  with  a  shot  through  his  neck.  For  the 
better  probing  of  the  wound  they  removed  his  head 
and  gave  it  to  me  to  hold.  Seeing  that  it  was  Solon 
Denney's  head,  I  was  seized  with  a  mood  of  jest  — 
I  would  hide  it  and  make  Solon  search.  I  advanced 
craftily  down  an  endless  corridor,  but  came  to  the 
edge  of  a  wood,  where  there  was  a  wicked  spitting 
of  shots.  I  cried  out  again,  and  once  more  they  gave 
me  the  drug.  Then  I  dreamed  more  quietly.  I 
saw  that  the  sovl  of  my  dead  arm  searched  for  her 
soul  —  that  it  would  soon  be  drawn  to  her  and  offer 
itself  to  comfort  her  and  never,  never  leave  her.  It 
would  say,  "  At  least  take  the  arm,  since  you  may 
have  it  without  the  face."  It  seemed  that  my  other 
arm  should  go  to  her,  too.  This  side  of  her  there 
could  be  nothing  for  either  to  close  upon.  It  appeared 


58  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

to  me  that  I  fell  asleep  on  this  fancy  and  dreamed 
that  I  awoke  painfully  to  a  poor,  one-sided  life,  effort 
less,  barren,  forbidding. 

A  year  later  I  went  back  to  the  Little  Country  to 
be  counsellor  at  law  to  its  people  in  time  of  need 
and  a  father  to  Solon  Denney  and  his  two  children. 
Solon  could  direct  large  affairs  acceptably,  but  he 
and  his  babes  .were  as  thistle-down  in  a  prairie 
wind. 

He  brought  the  children  to  visit  me  that  first  day 
I  came  home  —  to  a  home  where  I  was  now  to  live 
alone. 

I  sat  on  the  little  porch  above  the  river  bank,  close 
by  the  wall  of  blossoming  creeper  whose  tendrils  she 
had  once  embraced,  bringing  her  cheek  intrepidly 
against  the  blossoms  of  that  year,  and  saw  him  come 
slowly  up  the  path.  He  seemed  so  sadly  alone 
because  of  the  two  little  creatures  that  followed  him. 

I  placed  a  chair  for  Solon  and  was  confronted  by 
my  namesake. 

"Did  they  shotted  your  arm  off  in  the  war?"  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  in  the  war." 

He  patted  the  empty  sleeve,  and  !Js  eyes  beamed 
with  discovery. 

"  What  did  you  have  your  sleeve  rolled  up  for  when 
your  arm  was  shotted  ?  " 

I  made  plain  to  him  the  mystery  of  the  whole 
sleeve. 

"  She   often   spoke   of   you,"    said    Solon.      "  She 


DREAMS   AND   WAKINGS  59 

seemed  to  think  you  would  like  to  be  a  help  to  us 
if  you  could." 

I  turned  to  greet  the  woman  child,  but  she  had 
strayed  into  the  house.  I  heard  her  shouts  from  my 
bedroom.  Then  she  came  running  to  us,  cooing 
in  helpless  joy. 

"  Candy  —  candy  —  Uncle  Maje  —  lovely  candy  — 
all  pink  and  dusty." 

Well  over  a  face  set  with  the  mother's  eyes  was 
spilled  that  which  she  had  clutched  and  eaten  of,— 
a  thing  pink  and  dusty,  in  truth,  but  which  was  not 
candy. 

"  She  does  those  things  constantly,"  said  the  de 
jected  father.  "  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do  to  her." 

I  saw,  however,  and  did  it,  first  wiping  the  tooth- 
powder  from  her  face.  She  had  called  me  Uncle 
Maje. 

"  She's  a  regular  baddix,"  announced  my  name 
sake,  gravely  judicial.  Then,  as  if  with  intention 
to  indicate  delicately  that  the  family  afforded  strik 
ing  contrasts,  he  added,  "/  ain't  a  baddix — I  can 
nearly  sing." 

The  children  fribbled  about  us  while  we  talked 
away  the  afternoon.  The  woman  child  at  last  put 
me  to  thinking  —  to  thinking  that  perhaps  butterflies 
are  not  meant  to  be  happily  caught.  With  many 
shouts  she  had  clumsily  enough  imprisoned  one  — 
a  fairy  thing  of  green  and  bronze  —  in  a  hand  so 
plump  that  it  seemed  to  have  been  quilted.  A 
moment  she  held  it,  then  set  it  free,  perhaps  for  its 


60  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

lack  of  spirit.  It  crawled  and  fluttered  up  the  vine, 
trailing  a  crumpled  wing  most  sadly,  and  I  took  it 
for  my  lesson.  Assuredly  they  were  not  to  be 
caught  with  any  profit  —  at  least  not  brutally  in  an 
eager  hand.  Brush  them  ever  so  lightly  and  the 
bloom  is  off  the  wings.  They  are  to  be  watched  in 
their  pretty  flitting,  loved  only  in  their  freedom  and 
from  afar,  with  no  clumsy  Teachings.  That  was  a 
good  thing  to  know  in  any  world. 

The  Argus  announced  my  home-coming  with  a 
fine  flourish  of  my  title  in  Solon's  best  style.  It 
said  that  I  had  come  back  to  take  up  the  practice 
of  the  law.  Not  even  Solon  knew  that  I  had  come 
back  to  the  memory  of  her. 

This  is  how  it  befell  that  I  was  presently  engrossed 
to  outward  seeming  with  the  affairs  of  Little  Arcady 
—  even  to  the  extent  of  a  casual  Potts,  and  those 
blessed  contingencies  that  were  later  to  unfold  from 
him.  Thus  I  took  my  allotted  place  and  the  years 
began. 


CHAPTER  V 

A    MAD     PRANK    OF    THE    GODS 

A  WEEK  after  the  publication  of  that  blithe  bit  of 
acrimony  which  opens  this  tale,  Colonel  J.  Rodney 
Potts,  recreated  and  natty  in  a  new  summer  suit  of 
alpaca,  his  hat  freshly  ironed,  sued  the  town  of  Little 
Arcady  for  ten  thousand  dollars'  damages  to  his  person 
and  announced  his  candidacy  at  the  ensuing  election 
for  the  honorable  office  of  Judge  of  Slocum  County. 
He  did  this  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  his  many 
friends,  in  whose  hands  he  had  placed  himself,  —  at 
least  so  read  his  card  of  announcement  in  the  Banner, 
our  other  paper.  He  did  not  name  these  solicitous 
friends ;  but  it  was  an  easy  suspicion  that  they  were 
the  Democratic  leaders,  who  thought  by  this  means  to 
draw  votes  from  the  Republican  candidate  to  the 
advantage  of  their  own,  who,  otherwise,  was  conceded 
to  have  no  hope  of  election  in  a  county  overwhelm 
ingly  Republican. 

It  may  be  told  with  adequate  confidence  that  West- 
ley  Keyts  was  not  of  their  number.  As  to  the  damage 
suit,  Westley  found  it  unthinkable  that  Potts  could 
deteriorate  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  and  still  walk 
the  earth.  Indeed  he  believed,  and  uttered  a  few 
rough  words  to  express  it,  that  ten  dollars  would  be 

61 


62  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

an  excessive  valuation  even  if  Potts  were  utterly 
destroyed. 

Being  an  earnest  soul,  Westley  had  taken  the  Potts 
affair  very  seriously.  He  made  it  a  point  to  encounter 
the  Colonel  on  an  early  day  and  to  address  him  on 
Main  Street  in  tones  that  lacked  the  least  affectation 
of  suavity  or  diplomatic  guile.  He  had  seen  diplo 
macy  tried  and  found  wretchedly  wanting.  He  would 
have  no  more  of  it  ever.  Like  the  straightaway  man 
he  was,  he  went  to  the  meat  of  the  matter. 

"  You  squandered  that  hundred  dollars  we  give  you 
to  git  out  of  town  on,"  he  burst  forth  to  Potts,  breath- 
ing  with  an  ominous  difficulty. 

"  You  just  wait  till  you  hear  the  worst  of  it,"  an 
swered  Potts,  as  he  confidingly  dusted  the  shoulder  of 
Westley 's  coat.  "  The  worst  of  it  is  I  had  over  twelve 
dollars  of  my  own  money  that  I'd  saved  up — you 
know  how  hard  it  is  to  save  money  in  these  little 
towns  — well,  that  went,  too,  every  cent  of  it  !  " 

It  was  admitted  by  witnesses  competent  to  form  an 
opinion  that  Westley's  contorted  face,  his  troubled 
breathing,  his  manner  of  stepping  back,  and  the 
curious  writhing  of  his  stout  arms,  all  encouraged  a 
supposition  that  he  might  be  contemplating  immediate 
violence  upon  the  person  of  Potts.  At  all  events,  this 
view  was  taken  by  the  aggrieved  and  puzzled  Colonel, 
who  fled  through  the  Boston  Cash  Store  and,  by 
means  of  a  rear  exit  from  that  emporium,  gained  the 
office  of  Truman  Baird,  Justice  of  the  Peace,  where 
he  swore  to  a  legal  document  which  averred  that 


A   MAD   PRANK   OF   THE   GODS  63 

"the  said  Jonas  R.  Potts  "  was  "  in  fear  of  immediate 
and  great  bodily  harm  which  he  has  reasonable  cause 
to  believe  will  be  inflicted  upon  him  by  the  said  West- 
ley  Keyts." 

The  majesty  of  the  law  being  thus  invoked,  West- 
ley  was  put  under  a  good  and  sufficient  bond  to  refrain 
from  "  in  any  manner  attacking  or  molesting  the  said 
Potts,  against  the  statutes  therein  made  and  provided, 
and  against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  State  of 
Illinois." 

A  proceeding  so  official  somewhat  dampened  the 
fires  of  Mr.  Keyts.  He  was  a  citizen  law-abiding  by 
intention,  with  a  patriot's  esteem  for  government.  It 
had  merely  not  occurred  to  him  that  the  summary 
extinction  of  Potts  could  be  a  performance  at  all  in 
compatible  with  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  great 
commonwealth  to  which  he  was  at  heart  loyal.  Being 
convinced  otherwise,  he  abode  grimly  by  the  statutes 
therein  made  and  provided.  Nevertheless  he  returned 
to  his  shop  and  proceeded  to  cut  up  a  quarter  of  beef 
with  an  energy  of  concentration  and  a  ruthlessness 
of  fury  that  caused  Potts  to  shudder  as  he  passed  the 
door  sometime  later.  By  such  demeanor,  also,  were 
the  bondsmen  of  Westley  —  the  first  flush  of  their 
righteous  enthusiasm  faded  —  greatly  disturbed.  They 
agreed  that  he  ought  to  be  watched  closely  by  day, 
and  they  even  debated  the  wisdom  of  sitting  up  nights 
with  him  for  a  time,  turn  by  turn.  But  their  charge 
dissuaded  them  from  this  precaution.  He  expended 
his-first  vicious  fury  usefully  upon  his  stock  in  trade, 


64  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

with  knife  and  saw  and  cleaver,  and  thereafter  he 
was  but  petulant  or  sarcastic. 

"I  had  the  right  of  it,"  he  insisted.  "The  only 
way  to  do  with  a  person  like  him  was  to  git  your 
feathers  and  your  kittle  of  tar  cooked  up  all  nice  and 
gooey  and  git  Potts  on  the  ground  and  make  a 
believer  of  him  right  there  and  then  !  "  This  he  fol 
lowed  by  his  pointed  reflection  upon  the  administra 
tive  talents  of  Solon  Denney — "  A  hand  of  mush  in 
a  glove  of  the  same  !  "  When  listeners  were  not  by, 
he  would  mutter  it  to  himself  in  sinister  gutturals. 

Nor  was  he  alone  in  this  spirit  of  dissatisfaction 
with  Solon.  The  too-trustful  editor  of  the  Argus 
was  frankly  derided.  He  was  a  Boss  at  whom  they 
laughed  openly.  They  waited,  however,  with  inter 
est  for  the  subsequent  issues  of  this  paper. 

The  Banner  that  week  contained  the  following  bit 
of  news  :  — 

DASTARDLY   ASSAULT   IN   BROAD   DAYLIGHT 

Early  last  Thursday  evening,  as  Colonel  J.  Rodney  Potts,  dean 
of  the  Slocum  County  bar,  was  enjoying  a  quiet  stroll  along  our 
beautiful  river  bank  near  Cady's  mill,  he  was  set  upon  by  a  gang 
of  ruffians  and  would  have  been  foully  dealt  with  but  for  his  vig 
orous  resistance.  Being  a  man  of  splendid  proportions  and  a 
giant's  strength,  the  Colonel  was  making  gallant  headway  against 
the  cowardly  miscreants  when  his  foot  slipped  and  he  was  pre 
cipitated  into  the  chilling  waters  of  the  mill-race  at  a  point  where 
the  city  fathers  have  allowed  it  to  remain  uncovered.  Seeing 
their  victim  plunged  into  a  watery  grave,  as  they  thought,  the 
thugs  took  to  their  heels.  The  Colonel  extricated  himself  from 
his  perilous  plight,  by  dint  of  herculean  strength,  and  started  to 


A   MAD   PRANK   OF  THE   GODS  65 

pursue  them,  but  they  had  disappeared  from  sight  in  the  vicinity 
of  Crowder  &  Fancett's  lumber  yard.  Things  have  come  to  a 
pretty  pass,  we  must  say,  if  such  a  dastardly  outrage  as  this 
should  be  allowed  to  go  unpunished.  Now  that  Colonel  Potts 
has  brought  suit  against  the  city  we  suppose  the  council  will  have 
that  mill-race  covered.  We  have  repeatedly  warned  them  about 
this.  We  wonder  if  they  ever  heard  a  well-known  saying  about 
"  locking  the  stable  door  after  horse  is  stolen,"  etc. 

The  card  of  Colonel  Potts,  printed  elsewhere  in  this  issue,  is  a 
sufficient  refutation  of  the  malicious  gossip  that  has  been  handed 
back  and  forth  lately  that  he  had  planned  to  leave  Little  Arcady. 
It  looks  now  like  certain  busybodies  in  this  community  had  over 
stepped  themselves  and  been  hoisted  up  by  their  own  petard.  The 
Colonel  is  a  fine  man  for  County  Judge,  and  we  bespeak  for  him 
the  suffrages  of  every  voter  who  wants  an  honest  judiciary. 

Westley  Keyts,  reading  this,  wanted  to  know  what 
a  petard  was.  Inquiry  disclosed  that  he  hoped  it 
might  be  something  that  could  be  used  upon  Potts  to 
the  advantage  of  almost  every  one  concerned.  But 
in  the  minds  of  others  of  us  an  agonized  suspicion 
now  took  form.  Had  the  letters  been  upon  Potts 
when  he  went  down  ?  Had  they  been  saved  ?  Were 
they  legible  ?  And  would  he  use  them  ? 

It  was  decided  that  Solon  Denney  should  try  to 
illuminate  this  point  before  taking  the  candidacy  of 
Potts  seriously.  In  the  next  issue  of  the  Argus, 
therefore,  was  this  paragraph,  meant  to  be  pro 
vocative  :  — 

God's  providence  has  been  said  to  watch  over  fools  and  drunk 
ards.  We  guess  this  is  so ;  and  that  the  pretensions  of  a  certain 
individual  in  our  midst  to  its  watchfulness  in  the  double  capacity 
indicated  can  no  longer  be  in  doubt. 


66  THE   BOSS  OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

These  lines  did  their  work.  The  next  Banner 
spoke  of  a  foul  conspiracy  whose  nefarious  end  it 
was  to  blacken  the  sterling  character  of  a  good  man, 
of  that  Nestor  of  the  Slocum  County  Bar,  Colonel 
J.  Rodney  Potts.  As  testimony  that  the  best  citi 
zens  of  the  town  were  not  involved  with  this  infamous 
ring,  it  had  extorted  from  Colonel  Potts  his  consent 
to  print  certain  letters  from  these  gentlemen  setting 
forth  the  Colonel's  surpassing  virtues  in  no  uncertain 
terms  —  letters  which  his  innate  modesty  had  shrunk 
from  making  public,  until  goaded  to  desperation  by 
the  hell-hounds  of  a  corrupt  and  subsidized  oppo 
sition. 

The  letters  followed  in  a  terrific  sequence  —  a 
series  of  laudations  which  the  Chevalier  Bayard  need 
not  have  scorned  to  evoke. 

Then  we  waited  for  Solon,  but  he  was  rather  dis 
appointing.  Said  the  next  Argus  :  — 

We  have  heretofore  considered  J.  R.  Potts  to  possess  the  anti 
social  instincts  of  a  parasite  without  its  moderate  spirit  of  enter 
prise.  But  we  were  wrong.  We  now  concede  the  spirit  of 
enterprise.  As  for  this  candidacy  of  Potts,  Horace  Greeley  once 
said,  commenting,  we  think,  on  some  action  of  Weed's,  "  I  like 
cool  things,  of  ordinary  dimensions  —  an  iceberg  or  a  glacier  ; 
but  this  arctic  circle  of  coagulation  appals  credulity  and  paralyzes 
indignation.  Hence  my  numbness  ! "  Hence,  also,  our  own 
numbness.  But,  though  Speech  lieth  prone  on  a  paralytic's 
couch,  ACTION  is  hearty  and  stalketh  willingly  abroad.  In  this 
campaign  it  will  speak  louder  than  words.  Yea  !  it  will  be  heard 
high  above  Noah  Webster's  entire  assemblage  of  such  of  them  as 
are  decent.  That  is  all  !  J.  R.  P.,  take  notice! 


A   MAD   PRANK   OF   THE   GODS  67 

It  was  jaunty  enough,  but  Potts  had  unquestionably 
gained  a  following.  Indeed  he  had  ably  cemented 
the  foundations  of  one  by  his  magnificent  hospitality 
on  that  day  of  days.  His  whilom  serfs  were  men  not 
easily  offended  by  faults  of  taste,  and  they  were 
voters.  To  a  man  they  came  out  strongly  for  Potts. 

He  himself  behaved  with  a  faultless  discretion. 
Above  the  slurs  of  the  Argus  and  the  bickerings  of 
faction  he  bore  himself  as  one  alienated  from  earth 
by  the  graces  of  his  spirit ;  and  he  copiously  promised 
deeds  which  should  in  the  years  to  come  be  as  a  beau 
teous  garment  to  his  memory.  The  glaive  of  Justice 
should  descend  where  erstwhile  it  had  corruptly  been 
stayed.  Vice  should  suffer  its  meed  of  retribution, 
and  Virtue  come  again  into  its  glorious  own. 

Our  letters  of  eulogy,  printed  at  the  Banner  office, 
were  scattered  among  the  voters,  and  with  them  went 
a  letter  from  Potts  saying  that  if  his  strenuous  labors 
as  an  attorney  in  the  interests  of  humanity,  public 
morals,  and  common  decency  met  with  the  voter's 
approval,  he  would  be  gratified  to  have  his  good-will 
and  assistance.  "  It  is  such  gentlemen  as  yourself," 
read  the  letter,  "  constituting  the  best  element  of  our 
society,  to  whom  I  must  look  for  the  endorsement  of 
my  work.  The  criminal  classes  of  this  community, 
whose  minions  have  so  recently  sought  my  life  by 
mob  violence,  will  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  prevent 
my  sitting  as  Judge." 

Our  Democratic  candidate,  who  had  first  felt  but 
an  academic  interest  in  the  campaign,  began  now  to 


68  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

show  elation.  Old  Cuthbert  Mayne,  the  Republican 
candidate,  who  had  been  certain  of  success  but  for 
the  accident  of  Potts,  chewed  his  unlighted  cigar 
viciously,  and  from  the  corner  of  his  trap-like  mouth 
spoke  evil  of  Potts  in  a  voice  that  was  terrifying  for 
its  hoarseness.  His  own  letter,  among  the  others, 
told  of  Potts  as  one  who  sprang  to  arms  at  his  coun 
try's  call  and  was  now  richly  deserving  of  political 
preferment.  This  had  seemed  to  heighten  the  inflam 
mation  of  his  utterances.  Daily  he  consulted  with 
Solon,  warning  him  that  the  town  looked  to  the  Argus 
to  avert  this  calamity  of  Potts. 

But  Solon,  if  he  had  formed  any  plan  for  relief, 
refused  to  communicate  it.  Mayne  and  the  rest  of  us 
were  compelled  to  take  what  hope  we  could  from  his 
confident  if  secretive  bearing. 

Meantime  the  Banner  was  not  reticent  about  "  J. 
Rodney  Potts,  that  gallant  old  war-horse."  Across 
the  top  of  its  front  page  each  week  stood  "  POTTS 
FOREVER  —  POTTS  THE  COMING  MAN!" 

"  Big  Joe  "  Kestril  was  the  chief  henchman  of  Potts, 
and  his  fidelity  was  like  to  have  been  fatal  for  him. 
He  threw  himself  into  the  campaign  with  a  single- 
heartedness  that  left  him  few  sober  moments.  Upon 
the  City  Hotel  corner,  day  after  day,  he  buttonholed 
voters  and  whispered  to  them  with  alcoholic  fervor 
that  Potts  was  a  gentleman  of  character,  "  as  blotch- 
less  as  the  driftin'  snow."  Joe  believed  in  Potts 
pathetically. 

The  campaign  wore  its  way  through  the  summer, 


A   MAD   PRANK    OF  THE   GODS  69 

and  Solon  Denney  was  still  silent,  still  secretive,  still 
confident,  but,  alas !  still  inactive  so  far  as  we  could 
observe.  I  may  say  that  we  lost  faith  in  him  as  the 
barren  weeks  came  and  went.  We  came  to  believe 
that  his  assured  bearing  was  but  a  shield  for  his  real 
despair. 

Having  given  up  hope,  some  of  us  reached  a  point 
where  we  could  view  the  whole  affair  as  a  jest.  It 
became  a  popular  diversion  to  enter  the  establishment 
of  the  ever  serious  Westley  Keyts  and  whisper  secre 
tively  to  him  that  Solon  Denney  had  found  a  diplo 
matic  way  to  rid  the  town  of  Potts.  But  this  never 
moved  Westley. 

"Once  bit  —  twice  shy!"  would  be  his  response 
as  he  returned  to  slicing  steaks. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY 

IN  deference  to  the  wishes  of  J.  R.  C.  Tuckerman, 
I  had  formed  a  habit  of  breakfasting  in  summer  on 
the  little  back  porch  that  overlooks  the  river.  Less 
radical  departures  from  orthodox  custom,  it  is  true, 
have  caused  adverse  comment  in  our  watchful  little 
town ;  but  the  spot  was  secluded  from  casual  censors. 
And  it  was  pleasant  to  sit  there  of  a  summer  morning 
over  an  omelette  and  bacon,  coffee  such  as  no  other 
Little  Arcadian  ever  drank,  and  beaten  biscuit  beyond 
the  skill  of  any  in  our  vale  save  the  stout,  short- 
statured,  elderly  black  man  who  served  me  with  the 
grace  of  an  Ambassador.  Moreover,  I  was  glad  to 
please  him,  and  please  him  it  did  to  set  the  little 
table  back  of  the  wall  of  vines,  to  place  my  chair  in 
the  shaded  corner,  and  to  fetch  the  incomparable 
results  of  his  cookery  from  the  kitchen,  couched  and 
covered  in  snowy  napkins  against  the  morning 
breeze. 

John  Randolph  Clement  Tuckerman  he  was ;  Mr. 
Tuckerman  to  many  simple  souls  of  our  town,  and 
"  Clem  "  to  me,  after  our  intimacy  became  such  as  to 
warrant  this  form  of  address.  A  little,  tightly  kinked, 
grizzled  mustache  gave  a  tone  to  his  face.  His  hair, 

70 


A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY    71 

well  retreated  up  his  forehead,  was  of  the  same  close- 
woven  pepper-and-salt  mixture.  His  eyes  were  wells 
of  ink  when  the  light  fell  into  them,  —  sad,  kind  eyes, 
that  gave  his  face  a  look  of  patient  service  long  and 
toilsomely  but  lovingly  bestowed.  It  is  a  look  telling 
of  kindness  that  has  endured  and  triumphed  —  a  look 
of  submission  in  which  suffering  has  once  burned  but 
has  consumed  itself.  I  have  never  seen  it  except  in 
the  eyes  of  certain  old  negroes.  The  only  colorable 
imitation  is  to  be  found  in  the  eyes  of  my  setter  pup 
when  he  crouches  at  my  feet  and  beseeches  kindness 
after  a  punishment. 

In  bearing,  as  I  have  intimated,  Clem  was  impres 
sive.  He  was  low-toned,  easy  of  manner,  with  a 
flawless  aplomb.  As  he  served  me  those  mornings 
in  late  summer,  wearing  a  dress-coat  of  broadcloth,  a 
choice  relic  of  his  splendid  past,  it  was  not  difficult  to 
see  that  he  had  been  the  associate  of  gentlemen. 

As  I  ate  of  his  cooking  on  a  fair  Sunday,  I  mar 
velled  gratefully  at  the  slender  thread  of  chance  that 
had  drawn  him  to  be  my  stay.  Alone  in  that  little 
house,  with  no  one  to  make  it  a  home  for  me,  Clem 
was  the  barrier  between  me  and  the  fare  of  the  City 
Hotel.  Apparently  without  suggestion  from  me  he 
had  taken  me  for  his  own  to  tend  and  watch  over. 
And  the  marvel  was  assuredly  not  diminished  by  the 
circumstance  that  I  was  beholden  to  Potts  for  this 
black  comfort. 

Events  were  in  train  which  were  to  intensify  a 
thousand  fold  my  amazement  at  the  seeming  inconse- 


72  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

quence  of  really  vital  facts  in  this  big  life-plot  of 
which  we  are  the  puppets  —  events  so  incredible  that 
to  dwell  upon  their  relation  to  the  minor  accident  of 
a  mere  Potts  were  to  incur  confusion  and  downright 
madness. 

Apparently  fate  never  made  a  wilder,  a  more  pur 
poseless  cast  than  when  it  brought  Clem  to  Little 
Arcady  with  Potts. 

True,  the  circumstance  enabled  Potts  for  a  time  to 
refer  to  his  "body-servant,"  and  to  regale  the  chair- 
tilted  loungers  along  the  City  Hotel  front  with  a  tale 
of  picking  the  fellow  up  on  a  Southern  battle-field, 
and  of  winning  his  doglike  devotion  by  subsequent 
valor  upon  other  fields.  "  It  was  pathetic,  and  comi 
cal,  too,  gentlemen,  to  hear  that  nigger  beg  me  on 
his  bended  knees  to  take  better  care  of  myself  and 
not  insist  upon  getting  to  the  front  of  every  charge. 
'  Stay  back  and  let  some  of  the  others  do  a  little 
fighting,'  he  would  say,  with  tears  rolling  down  his 
black  cheeks.  And  I  admit  I  was  rash,  but  — 

Clem,  not  long  after  their  arrival,  confided  to  such 
of  us  as  seemed  worthy  the  less  romantic  tale  that  he 
had  found  the  Colonel  drunk  on  the  streets  of  Cin 
cinnati.  He  had  gone  there  to  seek  a  fortune  for 
his  "  folks "  and  had  found  the  Colonel  instead ; 
found  him  under  circumstances  which  were  typical  of 
the  Colonel's  periods  of  relaxation. 

"  Yes,  seh,  anybody  could  'a'  had  that  man  when 
Ah  found  him,"  averred  Clem  ;  "  anybody  could  'a' 
had  him  fo'  th'  askin'.  A  p'liceman  offaseh  neahly 


A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY    73 

git  him  —  yes,  seh.  But  Ah  seen  him  befo'  that,  an' 
Ah  speaks  his  notice  by  sayin',  '  This  yeh  ain'  no 
good  place  to  sleep,  on  this  yeh  hahd  stone  sidewalk. 
Yo'  freeze  yo'se'f,  Mahstah,'  an'  of  cose  Ah  appreci 
ated  th'  infuhmities  of  a  genaman,  but  Ah  induced 
him  to  put  on  his  coat  an'  his  hat  an'  his  boots,  an'  he 
sais,  'Ah  am  Gunnel  Potts,  an'  Ah  mus'  have  mah  eight 
houahs  sleep.'  Ah  sais  to  him,  '  If  yo'  is  a  Gunnel, 
yo'  is  a  genaman,  an'  Ah  shall  escoht  yo'  to  yo' 
hotel.'  Raght  then  a  p'liceman  offaseh  come  up,  an' 
he  sais,  '  Yeh,  yeh  !  what  all  this  yeh  row  about  ? '  an' 
Ah  sais,  '  Nothin'  'tall,  Mahstah  p'liceman  offaseh, 
Ah's  jes'  takin'  Mahstah  Gunnel  Potts  to  his  hotel,  seh, 
with  yo'  kindness,'  an'  he  sais,  '  Git  him  out  a  yeh  an' 
go  'long  with  yo'  then,'  so  Ah  led  th'  Gunnel  off,  seh. 
An'  eveh  hotel  he  seen,  he  sais,  'Yes,  tha'  she  is  — 
tha's  mah  hotel,'  but  the  Mahstahs  in  th'  hotels  they 
all  talk  ve'y  shawtly  eveh  time.  They  sais,  '  No  —  no 
—  g'wan,  tek  him  out  a'  yeh  —  he  ain'  b'long  in  this 
place,  that  man  ain'.'  So  we  walk  an'  walk  an'  ulti 
mately  he  sais,  '  If  Ah'm  go'n'  a'  git  mah  eight 
houahs  sleep  this  naght,  Ah  mus'  begin  sometime,  — 
why  not  now  ? '  So  th'  Gunnel  lay  raght  down  on 
th'  thu'faih  an'  Ah  set  mahse'f  down  beside  him 
twell  he  wake  up  in  th'  mawnin',  not  knowin'  what 
hahm  maght  come  to  him.  An'  he  neveh  did  have 
no  hotel  in  that  town,  seh,  —  no,  seh.  He  been  talkin' 
reglah  foolishness  all  that  theah  time.  An'  he  sais : 
'  Yo'  stay  by  me,  boy.  Ah's  go'n'  a'  go  West  to  mek 
mah  fo'chun.'  Well,  seh,  Ah  was  lookin'  fo'  a  place 


74  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

to  mek  some  fo'chun  mahse'f  fo  mah  folks,  an'  that 
theah  Cincinnati  didn't  seem  jes'  th'  raght  place  to 
set  about  it,  so  Ah  sais,  '  Thank  yo'  ve'y  much,  Mah- 
stah  Gunnel,'  an'  Ah  stays  by  him  fo'  a  consid'ble 
length  of  time." 

But  little  by  little  after  their  coming  to  our  town 
the  Colonel  had  alienated  his  companion  by  a  lack 
of  those  qualities  which  Clem  had  been  accustomed 
to  observe  in  those  to  whom  he  gave  himself.  Potts 
was  at  length  speaking  of  him  as  an  ungrateful  black 
hound,  and  wondering  if  the  nation  might  not  have 
been  injudicious  in  liberating  the  slave. 

Clem,  for  his  part,  cut  the  Colonel  dead  on  Main 
Street  one  day  and  never  afterwards  betrayed  to  him 
any  consciousness  of  his  existence.  It  was  said  that 
their  final  disagreement  hinged  upon  a  matter  of 
thirty  odd  dollars  earned  by  Clem  in  a  Cincinnati 
restaurant  and  confided  later  to  the  Colonel's  too 
thorough  keeping. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Clem  had  formed  other  and 
more  profitable  connections.  From  a  doer  of  odd 
jobs  of  wood-sawing,  house-cleaning,  and  stove- 
polishing  he  had  risen  to  the  dignity  of  a  market 
gardener.  A  small  house  and  a  large  garden  a 
block  away  from  my  place  were  now  rented  by  him. 
Also  he  caught  fish,  snared  rabbits,  gathered  the 
wild  fruits  in  their  seasons,  and  was  janitor  of  the 
Methodist  church ;  all  this  in  addition  to  looking 
after-  my  own  home.  It  was  not  surprising  that  he 
had  money  in  the  bank.  He  worked  unceasingly. 


A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY    75 

The  earliest  risers  in  Little  Arcady  found  him 
already  busied,  and  those  abroad  latest  at  night 
would  see  or  hear  him  about  the  little  unpainted 
house  in  the  big  garden. 

I  suspect  he  had  come  out  into  the  strange  world 
of  the  North  with  large,  loose  notions  that  the  for 
tune  he  needed  might  be  speedily  amassed.  Such 
tales  had  been  told  him  in  his  Southland,  where  he 
had  not  learned  to  question  or  doubt.  If  so,  his  dis 
appointment  was  not  to  be  seen  in  his  bearing.  That 
look  of  patient  endurance  may  have  eaten  a  little 
deeper  the  lines  about  his  inky  eyes,  but  I  am  sure 
his  purpose  had  never  wavered  nor  his  faith  that  he 
would  win  at  last. 

As  I  ate  my  breakfast  that  morning  he  told  me  of 
his  good  year.  The  early  produce  of  his  garden  had 
sold  well.  Soon  there  would  be  half  an  acre  of 
potatoes  to  dig,  and  now  there  was  a  fine  crop  of 
melons  just  coming  ripe.  These  he  would  begin  to 
sell  on  the  morrow. 

At  this  point,  breakfast  being  done,  the  cloth 
brushed,  and  a  light  brought  for  my  pipe,  Clem 
came  from  the  kitchen  with  a  new  pine  board  upon 
which  he  had  painted  a  sign  with  shoe  polish. 

"Yes,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  —  Ah  beg  yo'  t'  see  if 
hit's  raght !  "  and  he  held  it  up  to  me.  It  read  :  — 

Mellins  on  Sale 
Mush  &  Water 
Ask  Mr.  Tuckerman 
at  his  House. 


76  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

I  gave  the  thing  a  critical  survey  under  his  grave 
regard,  then  applauded  the  workmanship  and  hoped 
him  a  prosperous  season  with  the  melons. 

Then  I  beguiled  him  to  talk  of  his  land  and  his 
"folks,"  delighting  in  his  low,  soft  speech,  wherein 
the  vowels  languished  and  the  r's  fainted  from  sheer 
inertia. 

"  But,  Clem,  you  are  a  free  man  now.  Those 
people  can't  claim  your  services  any  longer." 

I  knew  what  he  would  say,  but  for  the  sake  of 
hearing  it  once  more,  I  had  braved  his  quick  look  of 
commiseration  for  my  shallowness  of  understanding. 

"Yes,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  Ah  knows  'bout  that 
theah  'mancipation  Procalmashum.  But  Ah  was  a 
ve'y  diffunt  matteh.  Yo'-all  see  Ah  was  made  oveh 
t'  Miss  Cahline  pussenly  by  Ole  Mahstah.  Yes,  seh, 
Ah  been  Miss  Cahline's  pussenal  propity  fo'  a  con- 
sid'able  length  of  time,  eveh  sence  she  was  Little 
Miss." 

"  But  you  are  free,  just  the  same,  now." 

He  looked  upon  me  with  troubled,  grave  eyes. 

"  Well,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  Ah  ain't  eveh  raghtly 
comp'ehended,  but  Ah've  reckoned  that  theah  wah 
business  an'  Procalmashum  an'  so  fothe  was  fo'  com 
mon  niggehs  an'  fiel'  han's  an'  sech  what  b'long  to 
th'  place.  But  Ah  was  diffunt.  Ah  ain't  b'longed 
to  th'  place.  Ah  b'longed  to  Miss  Cahline  lak  Ah 
endeaveh  to  explain.  Ah  was  a  house  niggeh  an' 
futhamoah  an'  notwithstandin'  Ah  was  th'  pussenal 
propity  of  Miss  Cahline.  Yes,  seh,  Ah  b'long  dreckly 


A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY    77 

to  huh  —  an'  Ah  bet  them  theah  lawyehs  at  Wash'nt'n, 
seh,  couldn't  kentrive  none  a'  they  laws  that  would 
'a'  teched  me,  seh.  No,  seh  —  they  cain't  lay  th'  law 
to  Miss  Cahline's  pussenalities.  She  ain't  go'n'  a' 
stan'  no  nonsense  lahk  that,  seh ;  she  ain't  go'n'  a' 
have  no  lawyeh  mixin'  up  in  huh  private  mattehs. 
Ah  lahk  t'  see  one  try  it  —  yes,  seh." 

He  gazed  vacantly  into  the  distance,  then  laughed 
aloud  as  he  beheld  the  discomfiture  of  the  "  lawyeh  " 
in  this  suppositious  proceeding. 

"  And  you  even  let  your  wife  go  ?  —  that  must  have 
been  hard." 

"Well,  seh,  not  to  say  mah  wife.  Mah  raght  wife, 
she  daid  —  an'  then  Ah  mahied  this  yeh  light-shaded 
gehl  fum  th'  quahtahs,  an'  she's  wild  an'  misled  — 
yes,  seh." 

Again  he  was  troubled,  but  I  held  him  to  it. 

"  You  thought  a  good  deal  of  her,  didn't  you, 
Clem?" 

He  studied  a  moment  as  he  rearranged  the  roses 
in  the  bowl  on  the  table,  seeking  a  way  to  let  me 
understand.  Then  he  sighed  hopelessly. 

"Well,  Mahstah  Majah,  Genevieve  she  cyahed  a 
raght  smaht  fo'  me,  also,  an'  she  mek  it  up  fo'  me 
t'  come  along  t'  town  with  huh.  She  sais  Ah  git  a 
mewl  an'  a  fahm  an'  thousan'  dollehs  money  fum  yo' 
Nawthen  President  an'  we  all  live  lahk  th'  quality. 
But,  yo'-all  see,  th'  ole  Mahstah  Gunnel  say  when  he 
go  off  to  th'  wah,  'Clem,  yo'  black  houn',  ef  Ah  doan' 
evetv  come  back,  these  yeh  ladies  is  lef '  in  yo'  pussenal 


78  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

chahge.  Yo'  unde'stan'  that?  Yo'  go  on  an'  do  fo' 
'em  jes'  lahk  Ah  was  yeh.'  An'  young  Mahstah 
Cap'n  Bev'ly,  —  he's  Little  Miss's  engaged-to-mahy 
genaman,  —  he  sais,  '  Clem,  ef  Ah  doan'  neveh  come 
back,  Ah  pray  an'  entrus"  yo'-all  t'  cyah  fo'  Miss 
Kate  an'  huh  Maw  jes  lahk  Ah  was  yeh  on  th'  spot.' 
An  Ah  said,  'Yes,  seh,'  an'  they  ain't  neithah  one  a' 
them  eveh  did  come  back.  Mahstah  Gunnel  he  daid 
by  th'  hand  o'  yo'  Nawthen  President  at  th'  battle  a' 
Seven  Pines,  an'  Mahstah  Cap'n  Bev'ly  Glentwo'th 
—  yo'  ole  Mahstah  Gen'al  She'dan  shoot  him  all  t' 
pieces  in  his  chest  one  day.  So  theah  Ah  is  —  Ah 
cairit  leave  —  an'  Genevieve  comes  a'  repohtin'  huh- 
se'f  to  mek  mah  rediments,  'cause  we  all  free  an' 
go'n'  a'  go  t'  Richmond  t'  live  high  an'  maghty,  an' 
Ah  sais,  '  Ah'm  Miss  Cahline's  pussenal  propity  — 
Ah  ain't  no  fiel'  niggeh  !  '  She  sais,  '  Is  yo'  a'  comin' 
aw  is  you  ain't  a-comin'  ? '  Ah  sais,  '  Ole  Cunnel 
daid,  young  Cap'n  daid  —  yo'  go  'long  an'  min'  yo' 
own  mindin's  — 

He  paused  to  look  out  over  the  waters  with  shining 
eyes.  After  a  bit  he  said  slowly,  "  Ah  neveh  thought 
Genevieve  would  go  —  but  she  did." 

"Then  what?" 

"  Well,  seh,  Ah  stayed  on  th'  place  twell  we  moved 
oveh  to  Miss  Cahline's  secon'  cousin,  Mahstah  Cunnel 
Peavey,  but  they  wa'n't  nothin'  theah,  so  Ah  sais  t' 
Miss  Cahline  that  Ah's  goin'  Nawth  wheah  all  th' 
money  is,  an'  Ah  send  fo'  huh.  So  she  sais,  '  Ve'y 
good,  Clem  —  yo'  all  Ah  got  lef  t'  mah  name,'  an'  so 


A  MATTER  OF  PERSONAL  PROPERTY    79 

Ah  come  off.  Then  afteh  while  Little  Miss  she  git 
resty  an'  tehible  fractious  an'  she  go  off  t'  Baltimoah 
t'  teach  in  th'  young  ladies'  educationals,  an'  Miss 
Cahline  she  still  theah  waitin'  fo'  me.  Yes,  seh, 
sh'  ain't  doin'  nothin'  but  livin'  on  huh  secon'  cousin 
an'  he  am'  got  nothin'  —  an'  Ah  lay  Ah  ain't  go'n'  a' 
have  that  kind  a'  doin's.  No,  seh  —  a-livin'  on  Cun- 
nel  Looshe  Peavey.  Ah'm  go'n'  a'  git  huh  yeh  whah 
she  kin  be  independent  —  " 

Again  he  stopped  to  see  visions. 

"  An'  then,  afteh  a  tehible  shawt  while,  Ah  git 
Little  Miss  fum  the  educationals  an'  they  both  be 
independent.  Yes,  seh,  Ah'm  gittin'  th'  money  — 
reglah  gole  money  —  none  a'  this  yeh  Vaginyah 
papah-rags  money.  Ah  ain't  stahted  good  when 
Ah  come,  but  Ah  wagah  ten  hund'ed  thousan' 
dollehs  Ah  finish  up  good !  " 

The  last  was  a  pointed  reference  to  the  Colonel. 

"Have  you  seen  Colonel  Potts  lately?"  I  asked. 
Clem  sniffed. 

"  Yes,  seh,  on  that  tavehn  cohnah,  a-settin'  on  a 
cheer  an'  a-chestin'  out  his  chest  lahk  a  ole  ma'ash 
fravvg.  'Peahs  like  the  man  ain't  got  hawg  sense, 
ack'in'  that  a-way." 

A  concluding  sniff  left  it  plain  that  Potts  had  been 
put  beyond  the  pale  of  gentility  by  Clem. 

He  left  me  then  to  do  his  work  in  the  kitchen  — 
left  me  back  on  a  battle-field,  lying  hurt  beside  an 
officer  from  his  land  who  tried  weakly  to  stanch  a 
wound  in  his  side  as  he  addressed  me. 


80  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"A  hot  charge,  sir  —  but  we  rallied  —  hear  that 
yell  from  our  men  behind  the  woods.  You  can't  beat 
us.  We  needn't  be  told  that.  Whatever  God  is,  he's 
at  least  a  gentleman,  above  practical  jokes  of  that 
sort."  He  groaned  as  the  blood  oozed  anew  from 
his  side,  then  pleaded  with  me  to  help  him  find  the 
picture  —  to  look  under  him  and  all  about  on  the 
ground.  Long  I  mused  upon  this.  But  at  last  my 
pipe  was  out,  and  I  awoke  from  that  troubled  spot 
where  God's  little  creatures  had  clashed  in  their  puny 
rage  —  awoke  to  know  that  this  was  my  day  to  wan 
der  in  another  world  —  the  dream  world  of  children, 
where  everything  is  true  that  ought  to  be  true. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"  A    WORLD    OF    FINE    FABLING  " 

SOLON  DENNEY'S  home,  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Delia  Sul 
livan,  late  of  Kerry,  was  four  blocks  up  the  shaded 
street  from  my  own.  Within  one  block  of  its  gate 
as  I  approached  it  that  morning,  the  Sabbath  calm 
was  riven  by  shouts  that  led  me  to  the  back  of  the 
house.  In  the  yard  next  to  Solon's,  Tobin  Crowder, 
of  Crowder  &  Fancett,  Lumber,  Coal  and  Building 
Supplies,  had  left  a  magnificent  green  wagon-box  flat 
upon  the  ground,  a  thing  so  fine  that  it  was  almost 
a  game  of  itself.  An  imagination  of  even  the  second 
order  could  at  once  render  it  supremely  fascinating. 
My  two  babes,  collaborating  with  four  small  Sullivans, 
had  by  child  magic,  which  is  the  only  true  magic, 
transformed  this  box  into  a  splendid  express  train. 
The  train  now  sped  across  country  at  such  terrific 
speed  that  the  small  Sullivan  at  the  throttle,  an  artist 
and  a  realist,  crouched  low,  with  eyes  strained  upon 
the  track  ahead,  with  one  hand  tightly  holding  on  his 
Sunday  cap. 

Another  Sullivan  was  fireman,  fiercely  shovelling 
imaginary  coal ;  still  another  at  the  side  of  the  box 
grasped  the  handle  of  the  brake  as  one  ready  to  die 
at  his  post  if  need  be.  The  last  Sullivan  paced  the 
length  of  the  wagon-box,  being  thrown  from  side  to 

81 


82  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

side  with  fine  artistry  by  the  train's  jolting.  He  arro 
gantly  demanded  tickets  from  passengers  supposedly 
loth  to  relinquish  these.  And  in  his  wake  went  the 
official  most  envied  by  all  the  others.  With  a  horse's 
nose-bag  upon  his  arm  my  namesake  chanted  in  plead 
ing  tones  above  the  din,  "  Peanuts  —  freshly  buttered 
popcorn  —  Culver's  celebrated  double-X  cough  drops, 
cool  and  refreshing !  " 

But  the  tragic  eminence  of  the  game  was  occupied 
by  my  woman  child.  Perched  in  the  middle  of  the 
high  seat,  her  short  legs  impotently  projecting  into 
space,  she  was  the  only  passenger  on  this  train  — 
and  she  for  whose  sole  behoof  the  ponderous  ma 
chinery  was  operated,  in  whose  exclusive  service  this 
crew  of  trained  hirelings  toiled  —  she  sat  aloft  indig 
nant,  with  tear-wet  face,  her  soul  revolted  by  the 
ignominy  of  it. 

I  knew  the  truth  in  a  glance.  There  had  been 
clamors  for  the  positions  of  honor,  and  she,  from 
weakness  of  sex,  had  been  overborne.  She  whose 
heart  cried  out  for  the  distinction  of  train-boy,  con 
ductor,  engineer,  brakeman,  or  fireman,  in  the  order 
named,  had  been  forced  into  the  only  degrading  post 
in  the  game  —  a  mere  passenger  without  voice  or 
office  in  those  delicate  feats  of  administration.  And 
she  suffered  • —  suffered  with  a  pathetic  loyalty,  for 
she  knew  as  well  as  they  that  some  one  had  to  be  the 
passenger. 

I  held  an  accusing  eye  upon  my  namesake  and  the 
train  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  much  embarrassed,  though 


"A   WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  83 

the  brakeman,  with  artistic  relish,  made  a  vast  ado 
with  his  brake  and  pretended  that  "  she  "  might  start 
off  again  any  minute. 

My  namesake  poised  himself  on  the  foot  that  had 
no  stone-bruise  and  began  :  — 

"  Now,  Uncle  Maje,  I  told  her  she  could  be  engi 
neer  after  we  got  to  the  next  station  —  " 

His  tones  were  those  of  benevolence  that  has  been 
ill-requited. 

"  Tliat  was  las'  station,"  broke  in  the  aggrieved 
passenger,  "  an'  they  wouldn't  stop  the  train  there 
'cause  they  said  it  was  a  'spress  train  and  mustn't 
stop  at  such  little  stations  — 

"  I  tried  awful  hard  to  stop  her,"  said  the  crafty 
Sullivan  at  the  throttle,  "but  she  got  away  from  me. 
She  did  so,  now  !  " 

"  And  I  said,  '  First  to  be  engineer,'  "  resumed  the 
passenger,  bitterly,  "  an'  they  wouldn't  let  me,  an'  I 
said,'  Secon'  to  be  engineer,'  an'  they  never  let  me,  an' 
T  said,  '  Las'  to  be  engineer,'  an'  they  never  let  me." 

"  She  wants  to  be  everything,"  said  my  namesake, 
rendered  a  little  sullen  by  this  concise  putting  of  her 
case. 

"You  come  with  me,"  I  said  to  the  passenger, 
"and  we'll  do  something  better  than  this  —  some 
thing  fine !  " 

Her  face  brightened,  for  she  knew  that  I  never 
made  idle  promises  as  do  so  many  grown-ups.  She 
jumped  from  her  seat,  even  though  the  first  Sullivan 
tooted  a  throaty  whistle  and  the  second  rattled  his 


84  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

brake  machinery  in  warning.  I  helped  her  over  the 
side  of  the  box,  and  as  we  walked  away  she  shouted 
back  to  the  bereaved  express  train  a  consolatory 

couplet :  — 

"  First  the  worst,  second  the  same, 
Last  the  best  of  all  the  game! " 

That  superb  machinery  of  travel  was  silent,  and 
the  mechanics  and  officials,  robbed  of  their  passenger, 
eyed  us  with  disfavor. 

"They  are  terrapin-buzzards!"  exclaimed  my 
woman  child,  with  deep  conviction. 

I  shuddered  fittingly  at  the  violence  of  her  speech. 

Before  we  had  gone  far  the  train-boy  deserted  his 
post  and  came  running  after  us. 

"  John  B.  Gough  !  "  he  exclaimed  bitterly  —  pro 
fanely. 

"  He's  swearing,"  warned  his  sister.  "  Look  out, 
Uncle  Maje,  or  he'll  say  '  Gamboge '  next." 

"I  don't  care,"  retorted  the  indignant  follower; 
"you  can't  have  a  train  without  any  passenger  —  it's 
silly.  I  don't  care  if  I  do  say  Gamboge.  There ! 
Gamboge  it !  " 

I  turned  upon  him.  I  had  endured  "terrapin-buz 
zards,"  hurled  at  the  group  by  my  woman  child,  per 
ceiving  need  of  relief  for  her  pent-up  passion.  I  had, 
moreover,  for  the  same  reason,  permitted  my  name 
sake  to  roll  under  his  tongue  the  formidable  and 
satisfying  expletive,  "John  B.  Gough!"  But  I  felt 
that  the  line  must  be  drawn  at  Gamboge.  Terrapin- 
buzzards  was  bad  enough,  though  it  was  true  that  this 


"A  WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  85 

might  be  used  innocently,  as  in  a  moment  of  mild 
dismay,  or  as  an  exclamation  of  mere  astonishment 
without  sinister  import.  But  Gamboge  !  —  and  ripped 
out  brazenly  as  it  had  been  ?  —  No !  A  thousand 
times  No  ! 

"  Calvin,"  I  said  sternly,  "  aren't  you  ashamed  to 
use  such  language  —  before  me  —  and  before  your 
little  sister?" 

But  here  the  little  sister  sank  beneath  her  true 
woman's  level  by  saying  :  — 

"  I  know  worse  than  that —  Dut !  " 

With  a  look  of  deadly  coldness  I  sought  to  chill  the 
pride  that  shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  achieved  this  new 
enormity. 

"  What  is  '  Dut '  ? "  I  asked  severely. 

"  Dut  is  —  is  a  Dut,"  she  answered,  somewhat 
abashed  by  my  want  of  enthusiasm. 

"A  Dut  is  a  baddix  —  a  regular  baddix,"  volun 
teered  her  brother.  Following  a  device  familiar  to 
philologists,  he  submitted  concrete  examples. 

"  Two  of  those  Sullivans  are  Duts,  and  so's  Mrs. 
Sullivan  sometimes  when  she  makes  me  split  kindling 
and  let  the  cat  alone  and  —  " 

"That  will  do,"  I  said;  "that's  enough  of  such 
talk.  Come  right  into  the  house." 

"It  ain't  a  baddix  to  say  'O  Crackers!'"  he  ob 
served  tentatively,  as  he  followed  us. 

"  It  may  not  be  for  some  people,"  I  answered. 
"  Nice  people  might  say  that  once  in  a  great  while, 
on  week-days,  if  they  never  said  any  other  baddixes ; 


86  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

but  it's  just  as  bad  as  any  of  them  if  you  say  all  the 
others  —  especially  that  horrible  one  —  " 

"Gamboge,"  he  reminded  me,  brightly. 

"  Never  mind  saying  it  again  !  " 

Then  came  a  new  uproar  from  the  wagon-box.  We 
perceived  that  the  train  had  moved  off  again,  manned 
now  entirely  by  Sullivans.  They  sought,  I  detected, 
to  produce  in  our  minds  an  impression  that  the  thing 
was  going  better  than  ever.  The  toots  of  the  Sullivan- 
throated  whistle  were  louder  and  more  frequent,  and 
the  voice  of  the  largest  could  be  plainly  heard.  He 
had  combined  the  two  offices  of  train-boy  and  con 
ductor.  We  heard  him  alternately  demanding 
"  Tickets !  "  and  urging  "  Peanuts,  cakes,  and  can 
dies  !  "  If  the  intention  had  been  to  lure  us  back  to 
witness  a  Sullivan  triumph,  it  failed.  We  shut  our 
lips  tightly  and  moved  around  to  the  front  porch. 

The  foiled  Sullivans  presently  followed  us  here. 
They  made  a  group  at  the  base  of  a  maple  on  the 
lawn  and,  affecting  not  to  notice  us,  talked  in  a  large, 
loud  way  so  that  we  must  overhear  and  be  made 
envious,  —  even  awe-struck  ;  for  they  had  all  secured 
jobs  on  the  real  railroad,  it  appeared.  They  would 
have  to  begin  to-morrow,  probably.  They  didn't 
know  for  sure,  but  they  thought  it  would  be  to 
morrow.  It  would  be  fine,  riding  off  on  the  big 
train.  Probably  they  would  never  come  back  to  this 
town,  but  sleep  on  their  big  engine  every  night ;  and 
every  day,  from  the  toothsome  dainties  of  the  train- 
boy  Sullivan's  basket,  they  would  "  eat  all  they  could 


"A   WORLD  OF   FINE    FABLING"  87 

hold."  The  elder  Sullivan,  aged  eight,  he  of  the 
artistic  temperament,  here  soared  dizzily  into  the 
farthest  ether  of  romance.  He  had  his  uniform  at 
home,  at  that  very  moment,  and  a  cap  with  "  gold 
reading"  on  it  —  it  read  "Conductor"  on  one  side, 
and  "  Candy  "  on  the  other.  Only  —  this  veritably 
smacked  of  genius  —  the  blue  coat  with  the  gold 
buttons  had  been  made  too  small  for  him,  and  he'd 
have  to  wait  until  they  sent  him  a  larger  size  —  "a 
No.  12,"  he  said,  with  a  careless,  unseeing  glance  at 
our  group.  This  was  a  stroke  that  had  nearly  done 
for  one  of  us  —  but  a  moment's  resistance  and  another 
of  sober  reflection  saved  him.  He  flashed  to  me  a 
look  of  scorn  for  the  clumsy  fabrication. 

There  was  still  a  brakeman  needed,  it  appeared,  — 
a  good  brakeman.  The  Sullivans  consulted  impor 
tantly,  wondering  if  "  a  good  man "  could  by  any 
chance  be  found  "  around  here."  They  named  and 
rejected  several  possible  candidates  —  other  boys  that 
we  knew.  And  they  wondered  again.  No  —  prob 
ably  every  one  around  here  was  afraid  to  leave  home 
or  wouldn't  be  strong  enough. 

I  held  my  breath,  perceiving  at  once  the  villany 
on  foot.  They  were  trying  to  lure  one  of  us  into  a 
trap.  They  wished  one  of  us  to  leap  forward  with 
a  glad,  eager,  artless  shout  —  "  /'//  be  the  other  brake 
man  ! "  At  once  they  would  jeer  coarsely,  slapping 
one  another's  backs  and  affecting  the  utmost  merri 
ment  that  this  one  of  us  should  have  been  equal  to  so 
monstrous  a  pretension.  This  would  last  a  long  time. 


88  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

They  would  take  up  other  matters  only  for  the  sake  of 
coming  back  to  it  with  sudden  explosions  of  contemp 
tuous  mirth. 

Happily,  the  one  of  us  most  liable  to  this  ignominy 
remained  unbelieving  to  the  bitter  end ;  even  did  he 
pretend  to  a  yawning  sort  of  interest  in  a  book  care 
lessly  picked  up.  The  Sullivans  had  been  foiled  at 
every  turn,  and  now  we  were  relieved  from  the  covert 
but  not  less  pointed  insult  of  their  presence. 

Mrs.  Delia,  her  morning's  work  done,  came  out 
dressed  for  church,  bidding  me  a  briskly  sad  little 
"Good  marnin',  Major!"  I  responded  pleasantly, 
for  in  a  way  I  liked  Mrs.  Sullivan,  who  came  each 
day  from  her  bare  little  house  under  the  hill  to  make 
a  home  for  Solon  and  our  children.  At  least  she  was 
kind  to  them  and  kept  them  plump.  That  she  re 
mained  dismal  under  circumstances  that  seemed  to 
me  not  to  warrant  it  was  a  detail  of  minor  conse 
quence.  Terry  Sullivan  had  been  no  good  husband 
to  her.  Beating  her  and  the  lesser  Sullivans  had 
been  his  serious  aim  when  in  liquor  and  his  diversion 
when  out.  But  he  fell  from  a  gracious  scaffolding 
with  a  bucket  of  azure  paint  one  day  and  fractured 
his  stout  neck,  a  thing  which  in  the  general  opinion 
of  Little  Arcady  Heaven  had  meant  to  be  consum 
mated  under  more  formal  auspices. 

But  when  they  took  Terry  home  and  laid  him  on 
her  bed,  she  had  wailed  absurdly  for  the  lost  lover 
in  him.  Through  the  night  her  cry  had  been,  "  Ah, 
Terry,  Terry,  —  ye  gev  me  manny  a  haird  blow,  dar- 
lin',  but  ye  kep'  th'  hairdest  til  th'  last !  " 


"A   WORLD  OF   FINE   FABLING"  89 

It  was  not  possible  to  avoid  being  irritated  a  little 
by  such  a  woman,  but  I  always  tried  to  conceal  this 
from  her.  I  suppose  she  had  a  right  to  her  own 
play-world.  She  was  dressed  now  in  a  limp  black 
of  many  rusty  ruffles  that  sagged  close  to  her  and 
glistened  in  spots  through  its  rust.  Both  the  dress 
and  the  spiritless  silk  bonnet  that  circled  her  keen 
little  face  seemed  to  have  been  cried  over  a  long  time 
—  to  be  always  damp  with  her  tears. 

With  parting  injunctions  to  my  namesake  to  let  the 
cat  alone,  not  to  "  track  up  "  the  kitchen,  and  not  to 
play  with  matches,  the  little  woman  lovingly  cuffed 
the  conspiring  lesser  Sullivans  into  a  decorous  line 
behind  her  and  marched  them  off  to  church.  There, 
I  knew,  she  would  give  from  her  poor  wage  that  the 
soul  of  dead  Terry  should  be  the  sooner  prayed  out 
of  a  place  which,  it  would  seem,  might  have  been 
created  with  an  eye  single  to  his  just  needs. 

Thinking  of  woman's  love, — that,  like  the  peace 
of  God  it  passeth  all  understanding,  —  I  officiated 
absently  as  one  of  two  guests  at  a  "  tea-party." 
My  fellow-guest  was  a  large  doll  braced  stiffly  in  its 
chair ;  a  doll  whose  waxen  face  had  been  gouged  by 
vandal  nails.  That  was  an  old  tragedy,  though  a 
sickening  one  at  the  time.  The  doll  had  been  my 
Christmas  offering  to  the  woman  child,  and  in  the 
dusk  of  that  joyous  day  my  namesake  had  craved 
of  its  proud  mother  the  boon  of  holding  it  a  little 
while.  Relinquished  trustingly  to  him,  he  had  sat 
with  it  by  a  cheerful  fire  —  without  evil  intent,  I  do 


90  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

truly  believe.  Surely  it  was  by  chance  that  he  found 
its  waxen  face  softening  under  the  stove's  glow  — 
and  has  Heaven  affixed  nails  to  any  boy  of  seven 
that,  in  a  dusky  room  at  a  quiet  moment,  would  have 
behaved  with  more  restraint  ?  I  trow  not.  One  sur 
prised  dig  and  all  was  lost.  Of  that  fair  surface  of 
rounded  cheek,  fattened  chin,  and  noble  brow  not  a 
square  inch  was  left  ungouged.  It  was  indeed  a  face 
of  evil  suggestion  that  the  unsuspecting  mother  took 
back. 

That  was  the  evening  when  the  Crowders,  living 
next  door,  had  rushed  over  in  the  belief  that  my 
woman  child  was  being  murdered.  The  criminal  had 
never  been  able  to  advance  the  shadow  of  a  reason 
or  excuse  for  his  mad  act.  He  seemed  to  be  as 
honestly  puzzled  by  it  as  the  rest  of  us,  though  I 
rejoice  to  say  that  he  was  not  left  without  reason 
to  deplore  it. 

But  the  mother  —  the  true  mother  —  had  thereafter 
loved  the  disfigured  thing  but  the  more.  She  promptly 
divested  it  of  all  its  splendid  garments,  as  a  precau 
tion  against  further  vandalism,  and  the  naked  thing 
with  its  scarred  face  was  ever  an  honored  guest  at 
our  functions. 

"  You  really  must  get  some  clothes  for  Irene,"  I 
said.  "That's  not  quite  the  right  thing,  you  know, 
having  her  sit  there  without  any." 

In  much  annoyance  she  rebuked  me,  whispering, 
for  this  thoughtless  lapse  from  my  role  as  guest.  At 
our  parties  Irene  was  no  longer  Irene,  but  "  Mrs.  Judge 


"A   WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  91 

Robinson,"  and  justly  sensitive  about  her  faulty  com 
plexion  and  lack  of  clothes. 

"  Besides,"  came  the  whisper  again,  "  I  am  going 
to  make  her  some  clothes  —  a  lovely  veil  to  go  over 
her  face." 

Resuming  her  company  voice,  and  with  the  aplomb 
of  a  perfect  hostess  who  has  rectified  the  gaucherie 
of  an  awkward  guest,  she  pressed  upon  me  another 
cup  of  the  custard  coffee,  and  tactfully  inquired  of 
the  supposedly  embarrassed  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson 
if  she  did  not  think  this  was  very  warm  weather  for 
this  time  of  year. 

The  proprieties  being  thus  mended,  our  hostess 
raised  her  voice  and  bade  Mrs.  Sullivan,  within 
doors,  to  hurry  with  the  next  course,  which,  I  was 
charmed  to  learn,  would  be  lemon  soup  and  frosted 
cake.  Mrs.  Sullivan's  response,  though  audible  only 
to  her  mistress,  who  was  compelled  to  cock  an  intent 
ear  toward  the  kitchen,  seemed  to  be  in  some  manner 
shuffling  or  evasive. 

"What's  that?"  she  exclaimed  sharply,  listening 
again.  Then,  with  dignity,  "  Well,  if  you  don't 
hurry,  I'll  have  to  come  right  in  there  and  see  to  you 
this  minute  !  " 

The  threat  happily  availed,  and  the  feast  went  for 
ward,  a  phantom  and  duly  apologetic  Mrs.  Sullivan 
serving  us  with  every  delicacy  which  our  imaginations 
afforded.  When  we  had  eaten  to  repletion,  of  and 
from  the  checkers  which  were  our  plates  and  food  as 
well,  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson  suddenly  became  Irene, 


92  THE    BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

who  had  eaten  too  much  and  had  to  be  scolded  and 
put  to  bed.  The  lights  were  out,  the  revelry  done. 

"  Going  walking  now  ?  "  asked  my  namesake.  He 
did  not  know  how  to  behave  at  tea-parties,  and,  sitting 
at  a  little  distance  from  us,  he  had  been  aiming  an 
imaginary  gun  at  every  fat  robin  that  mined  the 
lawn  for  sustenance. 

"Ask  your  father  if  you  may  go,"  I  said.  I  had 
heard  Solon  pacing  his  room  —  forever  cogitating  the 
imminent  Potts.  I  did  not  enter  the  house  oftener 
than  I  could  help,  for  always  in  those  rooms  I  felt  a 
troubled  presence,  a  homesick  thing  that  pushed  two 
frail  white  hands  against  an  intangible  but  sufficing 
curtain  that  held  it  from  those  it  sickened  for.  I 
could  not  long  be  easy  there. 

It  was  a  day  poised  and  serene,  with  white  brush- 
dabs  of  cloud  on  a  wonderful  canvas  of  blue,  —  a  day 
when  I  longed  for  the  honeyed  fragrance  of  the 
woods  warming  from  the  last  night's  rain. 

But  this  was  not  to  be  my  walk.  Not  for  me  the 
shaded  arches  of  the  wood  where  glad  birds  piped, 
nor  the  velvet  hillsides  tufted  with  green  and  yellow 
and  brown,  nor  eke  the  quiet  lane  running  between 
walls  of  foliage,  where  simple  rabbits  scampered, 
amazed  but  not  yet  taught  their  fullest  fear. 

The  butterflies  we  must  chase  hovered  rather  along 
urban  ways.  That  of  the  woman  child  was  social. 
Ahead  of  us  she  flounced.  Strangely,  she  was  her 
self  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson  now.  I  understood  that 
she  was  decked  in  a  gown  of  royal  purple,  whose 


"A   WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  93 

sweeping  velvet  train  gave  her  no  little  trouble.  But 
she  paid  her  calls.  At  each  gate  she  stopped,  and  it 
seemed  that  persons  met  her  there,  for  she  began :  — 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do  ?  Yes,  it's  lovely  weather 
we're  having.  Are  your  children  got  the  scarlet 
fever  ?  That's  too  bad.  So  has  mine.  I'm  afraid 
they'll  die.  Well,  I  must  be  going  now.  Good 
day  !  " 

Sometimes  she  ran  back  to  say,  "  Now  do  come 
over  some  day  and  bring  your  work !  " 

The  butterflies  pursued  by  my  namesake  were 
various,  and  some  of  them  were  more  secret. 

For  one  he  made  me  stand  with  him  while  he 
gazed  long  into  the  drug-store  window.  I  divined  at 
last  that  those  giant  chalices,  one  of  green  and  one 
of  ruby  liquor,  were  the  objects  of  his  worship.  He 
could  not  have  told  me  this,  but  I  knew  that  in  his 
mind  these  were  compounds  of  unparalleled  richness, 
potent  with  Heaven  knows  what  wondrous  charms. 
It  was  not  that  he  dreamed  ever  of  securing  any  of 
the  stuff;  the  spell  endured  only  while  they  must 
stand  there,  remote,  splendid,  inaccessible. 

Then  we  strolled  down  the  quiet  street  to  a  road 
that  went  close  to  the  railway.  And  there,  with  beat 
ing  hearts,  we  beheld  the  two-twenty  Eastern  freight 
rattle  superbly  by  us.  From  the  cab  of  its  inspiring 
locomotive  one  of  fortune's  favorites  rang  a  priceless 
gold  bell  with  an  air  of  indifference  which  we  believed 
in  our  hearts  was  assumed  to  impress  us.  And  not- 
withs«tanding  our  suspicion,  we  were  impressed,  for 


94  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

did  we  not  know  that  he  could  reach  up  his  other 
hand  and  blow  the  splendid  whistle  if  he  happened 
to  feel  like  it  ? 

After  the  locomotive  came  the  closed  and  mysterious 
box-cars,  important  with  big  numbers  and  initials  in 
cabalistic  sequence,  indicating  a  wide  and  exciting 
range  of  travels.  Then  came  stock  cars,  from  between 
the  slats  of  which  strange  and  envied  cattle  looked 
out  on  their  way  to  a  wondrous  city ;  and  there  was 
a  car  of  squealing  pigs,  who  seemed  not  to  want  to 
ride  on  a  real  train ;  and  some  cars  of  sheep  that 
were  stupidly  indifferent  about  the  whole  thing.  At 
the  last  was  a  palatial  "  caboose,"  and  toward  this, 
over  the  tops  of  the  moving  cars,  a  happy  brakeman 
made  his  exciting  progress,  not  having  to  hold  on,  or 
anything.  He  casually  waved  an  arm  at  us,  a  salute 
that  one  of  our  number,  in  acknowledging,  sought  to 
imitate,  for  the  cool,  indifferent  flourish  of  its  arm,  as 
if  it  were  a  common  enough  thing  for  us  to  be  noticed 
by  the  mighty  from  their  eminences. 

This  was  my  namesake's  most  beautiful  of  butter 
flies.  Any  one  could  understand  that.  As  the  train 
lost  itself  in  smoke  I  knew  well  what  he  felt.  I  knew 
that  that  smoke  of  soft  coal  was  so  delicious,  so 
wonderful  of  portent  in  his  nostrils,  that  throughout 
his  life  it  would  bring  up  the  wander-bidding  in  him 
—  always  a  strange  sweet  passion  of  starting.  Even 
now  the  journey-wonder  was  in  his  eyes.  I  knew 
that  he  saw  himself  jauntily  stepping  the  perilous  tops 
of  cars,  clad  in  a  coat  of  padded  shoulders  bound 


"A   WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  95 

with  wide  braid,  a  lantern  on  his  arm,  coal  dust 
smudging  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  two  fingers 
felicitously  gone  from  his  left  hand. 

I  coughed,  to  recall  him  from  visions.  He  looked 
up  at  me,  a  little  shyly,  debating  —  but  why  should 
it  not  be  told  ? 

"Uncle  Maje  —  when  I  grow  up,  I'm  going  off  to 
be  a  brakeman." 

"  I  know  it,"  I  said  quietly. 

"  Won't  it  be  just  fine  !  " 

"  It's  the  very  finest  life  in  all  the  world.  I  hoped 
for  it  myself  once,  but  I  was  disappointed." 

He  gave  me  a  quick  look  of  sympathy. 

"Wouldn't  they  let  you?" 

"  Well,  they  were  afraid  I'd  be  hurt  —  only  I  knew 
I  wouldn't  be  —  anything  to  speak  of  —  a  couple  of 
fingers,  .perhaps  — 

"  Off  the  left  hand,"  he  suggested  understandingly. 

"  Of  course,  —  off  the  left  hand." 

"  That  brakeman  on  No.  3  has  got  two  off  his  left 
hand,"  was  the  final  comment. 

We  retraced  our  steps ;  but  there  was  yet  another 
butterfly  of  my  namesake's.  He  led  us  to  a  by-path 
that  followed  the  river  bank  up  to  the  bridge,  run 
ning  far  ahead  of  us.  When  we  reached  him  he  was 
seated,  dumb  with  yearning,  before  a  newly  painted 
sign, 

"Go  TO  BUDD'S  FOR  AN  UP-TO-DATE  25  CT. 
DINNER." 


96  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

He  was  obliged  to  limp  that  day,  for  his  stone- 
bruise  was  coming  on  finely ;  but  he  had  gone  half 
a  mile  out  of  his  way  to  worship  at  this  wayside 
shrine.  Again  he  was  dreaming.  In  the  days  of  his 
opulence  he  saw  himself  going  to  Budd's.  Fortu 
nately  for  his  illusions  the  price  was  now  prohibitive. 
I  had  been  to  Budd's  myself. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  there  ? "  I  asked  of  the 
dreamer. 

"  I've  been  in  his  store,  in  the  front  part,  where  the 
candy  is  —  and  if  you  go  'round  when  he's  freezing 
ice  cream,  he'll  give  you  a  whole  ten-cent  dish  just  for 
turning  the  freezer ;  but  Pop  won't  let  me  stay  out 
of  school  to  do  it,  and  Budd  don't  freeze  Saturdays. 
But  some  day  —  "  he  paused.  Then,  with  seemingly 
another  idea :  — 

"  He's  got  an  awful  funny  sign  up  over  the 
counter." 

He  would  not  tell  me  what  the  sign  was,  though. 
He  shuffled  and  talked  of  other  things.  I  entered 
Budd's  on  the  morrow,  purposely  to  read  it,  and  I 
knew  that  my  namesake  had  quailed  before  it.  The 
sign  was  in  white,  frosted  letters,  on  a  blue  ground, 
and  it  ran  :  — 

To  TRUST  is  TO  BUST 

To  BUST  is  HELL 

No  TRUST,  No  BUST,  No  HELL. 

Its  syllogistic  hardness  was  repellant,  but  I  dare 
say  it  preserved  a  gorgeous  butterfly  from  utter  ex 
tinction. 


"A   WORLD   OF   FINE   FABLING"  97 

Home  again  at  early  twilight,  we  ate  of  a  cold 
supper  set  out  for  us  by  Mrs.  Sullivan.  And  here  I 
reflected  that  good  days  often  end  badly,  for  my 
namesake  betrayed  extreme  dissatisfaction  with  the 
food. 

"Why  don't  we  have  that  pudding  oftener  —  with 
lather  on  top  of  it  ?  "  was  his  first  outbreak.  And  at 
last  he  felt  obliged  to  declare  bitterly,  "We  don't 
have  a  thing  that's  fit  to  eat !  " 

"Calvin,"  said  his  father,  "if  I  have  to  whip,  it  will 
hurt  you  worse  than  it  does  me." 

Whereupon  the  complainer  was  wisely  silent,  but 
later  I  heard  him  asserting,  between  catches  of  his 
breath,  and  out  of  his  father's  hearing :  — 

"  I  don't  care  —  (a  sniff}  —  when  I'm  rich,  I'll  go  to 
Budd's  for  an  up-to-date  dinner,  you  bet  —  (a  snuffli) 
—  I'll  probably  go  there  every  day  of  my  life  —  (two 
snuffles}  —  yes,  sir —  Sundays  and  all !  " 

I  cheered  him  as  best  I  could. 

His  sister  had  saved  her  day  to  a  happy  end,  bab 
bling  off  to  bed  with  the  distressing  Irene,  to  whom 
she  would  show  a  book  of  pictures  until  sleep  shut 
off  her  little  world. 

A  wise  old  man  —  I  believe  he  was  a  bishop  — 
once  said  he  knew  "  that  outside  the  real  world  is  a 
world  of  fine  fabling." 

I  had  stolen  a  day  from  that  world.  Now  I  hurried 
through  the  gloom  of  the  hall,  past  the  poor  striving 
hands,  to  sit  with  Solon  Denney  and  tell  him  of  a  pecul 
iar  thing  I  had  observed  during  the  afternoon's  walk. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

ADVENTURE     OF     BILLY     DURGIN,     SLEUTH 

I  SPOKE  to  Solon  of  Billy  Durgin,  whose  peculiar, 
not  to  say  mysterious,  behavior  I  had  been  compelled 
to  notice.  I  had  first  observed  him  that  afternoon  as 
we  passed  the  City  Hotel.  Through  the  window  of 
the  little  wash-room,  where  I  saw  that  he  was  polish 
ing  a  pair  of  shoes,  he  had  winked  at  me  from  over 
his  task,  and  then  erected  himself  to  make  a  puzzling 
gesture  with  one  hand.  Again,  while  we  stood  dream- 
bound  before  the  window  of  the  corner  drug  store,  he 
had  sent  me  a  low  whistle  from  across  the  street, 
following  this  with  another  puzzling  arm  wave ; 
whereat  he  had  started  toward  us.  But  instead  of 
accosting  me,  as  I  had  thought  he  meant  to,  he  rushed 
by,  with  eyes  rigidly  ahead  and  his  thin  jaws  grimly 
set.  Throughout  the  stroll  he  haunted  us,  adhering 
to  this  strange  line  of  conduct.  I  would  turn  a  corner, 
to  find  Billy  apparently  waiting  for  me  a  block  off. 
Then  would  follow  a  signal  of  no  determinable  import, 
after  which  he  would  walk  swiftly  past  me  as  if  un 
aware  of  my  presence.  Once  I  started  to  address 
him,  but  was  met  with  "  Not  a  word !"  hissed  at  me 
in  his  best  style  from  between  clenched  teeth. 

I  decided  at  last  that  Billy  was  playing  a  game  of 
98 


ADVENTURE   OF   BILLY   DURGIN,  SLEUTH       99 

his  own.  For  Billy  Durgin,  though  sixteen  years 
old,  had  happy  access  to  our  world  of  fine  fabling  ; 
and  to  this  I  knew  he  resorted  at  those  times  when 
his  duties  as  porter  at  the  City  Hotel  palled  upon  his 
romantic  spirit. 

Billy,  in  short,  was  a  detective,  well  soaked  in  the 
plenteous  literature  of  his  craft  and  living  in  the  dream 
that  criminals  would  one  day  shudder  at  the  bare 
mention  of  his  name. 

Nor  was  he  unprovided  with  a  badge  of  office. 
Upon  his  immature  chest,  concealed  by  his  waist 
coat,  was  an  eight-pointed  star  emblazoned  with  an 
open  eye.  Billy  had  once  proudly  confided  to  me 
that  the  star  was  "pure  German  Silver."  A  year 
before  he  had  answered  an  advertisement  which  made 
known  that  a  trusty  man  was  wanted  in  every  com 
munity  "to  act  for  us  in  a  confidential  capacity. 
Address  for  particulars,  with  stamp." 

The  particulars  were  that  you  sent  the  International 
Detective  Association  five  dollars  for  a  badge.  After 
that  you  were  their  confidential  agent,  and  if  a  "case" 
occurred  in  your  territory,  you  were  the  man  they 
turned  to. 

Billy's  five  hard-earned  dollars  had  gone  to  the 
great  city,  and  back  had  come  his  star.  He  wore  it 
secretly  at  first,  but  was  moved  at  length  to  display  it 
to  a  few  chosen  friends  ;  not  wisely  chosen,  it  would 
appear,  for  now  there  were  mockers  of  Billy  among 
the  irreverent  of  the  town.  As  he  sat  aloft  on  his 
boot-blacking  throne,  waiting  for  crime  to  be  done 


100  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

among  us,  conning  meantime  one  of  those  romances 
in  which  his  heroes  did  rare  deeds,  he  would  be  sub 
jected  to  intrusion.  Some  coarse  town  humorist  would 
leer  upon  him  from  the  doorway  —  a  leer  of  furtive, 
devilish  cunning  —  and  whisper  hoarsely,  "  Hist ! 
Are  we  alone  ?  " 

Struck  thus  below  the  belt  of  his  dignity,  our  hero 
could  only  respond  :  — 

"  Aw,  that's  all  right !  You  g'wan  out  a'  here  now 
an'  quit  your  foolin' !  " 

But  criminals  seemed  to  have  conspired  against 
Little  Arcady,  to  cheat  it  of  its  rightful  distinction. 
In  vain  had  Billy  waited  for  a  "  case  "  to  be  sent  him 
by  the  International  Detective  Agency.  In  vain  had 
he  sought  to  develop  one  by  his  own  ferreting 
genius.  Each  week  he  searched  the  columns  of  the 
police  paper  in  Harpin  Gust's  barber-shop,  fixing  in  his 
mind  the  lineaments  of  criminals  there  advertised  as 
wanted  in  various  corners  of  our  land.  These  were 
counterfeiters,  murderers,  embezzlers,  horse-thieves, 
confidence  men,  what  not  —  criminals  to  satisfy  a 
sleuth  of  the  most  catholic  tastes  ;  but  they  were  all 
wanted  elsewhere  —  at  Altoona,  Pennsylvania,  or 
Deming,  New  Mexico;  at  Portland,  Maine,  or  Dodge 
City,  Kansas.  In  truth,  the  country  elsewhere 
swarmed  with  Billy's  lawful  prey,  and  only  Little 
Arcady  seemed  good. 

Billy  also  gloated  over  the  portraits  of  well-known 
deputy  sheriffs  and  other  officers  of  the  law  printed 
in  the  same  charming  police  paper.  It  seemed  not 


ADVENTURE    OF   BILLY    DURGIN,  SLEUTH     IOI 

too  much  to  hope  that  his  own  likeness  might  one 
day  grace  that  radiant  page  —  himself  in  a  long, 
fashionable  overcoat,  carelessly  flung  back  to  reveal 
the  badge,  with  its  never  closing  eye,  and  underneath, 
"  William  P.  Durgin,  the  Dashing  Young  Detective, 
whose  Coolness,  Skill,  and  Daring  have  made  his 
Name  a  Terror  to  Evil-Doers/' 

Famished  for  adventure,  thirsting  for  danger,  yearn 
ing  for  the  perilous  midnight  encounter,  avid  of 
secrecy  and  disguises,  Billy  had  been  forced  to  toil 
prosaically,  barrenly,  unprofitably,  about  the  sinless 
corridors  of  the  City  Hotel.  All  he  had  been  able 
to  do  thus  far  was  to  regard  every  newcomer  to  the 
town  with  a  steely  eye  of  distrust ;  to  watch  each  one 
furtively,  to  shadow  him  in  his  walks,  and  to  believe 
during  his  sojourn  that  he  might  be  "  Red  Mike,  alias 
James  K.  Brown,  wanted  for  safe-breaking  at  Muske- 
gon,  Michigan  ;  reward,  $1000,"  or  some  like  desperado. 

As  such  did  he  view  them  all  —  from  the  ornately 
garbed  young  man  who  came  among  us  purveying 
windmills  to  the  portly,  broadclothed,  gray-whiskered 
and  forbiddingly  respectable  colporteur  of  the  Ameri 
can  Bible  Society.  Some  day  would  his  keen  gray 
eye  penetrate  the  cunning  disguise;  some  day  would 
he  step  quietly  up  to  his  man  and  say  in  low  but 
deadly  tones:  "Come  with  me,  now.  Make  no  trouble 
or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you."  Whereupon  the 
guilty  wretch  would  blanch  and  say  in  shaking  voice: 
"  My  God,  it's  Billy  Durgin,  the  famous  detective  ! 
Don't  shoot  —  I'll  come!" 


102  THE    BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Billy  had  faith  that  this  dramatic  episode  would 
occur  in  the  very  office  of  the  City  Hotel,  and  he 
believed  that  some  of  those  who  had  joked  him  about 
his  life  passion  would  thereafter  treat  him  in  a  very 
different  manner. 

Though  I  had  long  won  these  facts  from  Billy,  I 
had  never  known  him  to  play  his  game  so  openly 
before.  But  when  I  mentioned  the  thing  to  Solon, 
thinking  to  beguile  him  from  his  trouble,  I  found  him 
more  interested  than  I  had  thought  he  could  be ;  for 
Solon  knew  Billy  as  well  as  I  did. 

"Did  Billy  follow  you  here?"  he  asked.  "Per 
haps  he  has  a  clew." 

"  A  clew  to  what  ?  " 

"  A  clew  to  Potts.  Billy  volunteered  to  work  up 
the  Potts  case,  and  I  told  him  to  go  ahead." 

"  Was  that  fair,  Solon,  to  pit  a  sleuth  as  relentless 
as  Billy  against  poor  Potts  ? " 

"All's  fair  in  love  and  war." 

"  Is  it  really  war  ?  " 

"You  ask  Westley  Keyts  if  he  thinks  it's  love." 

I  think  I  noticed  for  the  first  time  then  that  the 
Potts  affair  was  etching  lines  into  Solon's  face. 

"  Of  course  it's  war,"  he  went  on.  "  You  know  the 
fix  I'm  in.  I  had  the  plan  to  get  Potts  out.  It  was 
a  good  plan,  too.  The  more  I  think  of  it  the  better 
I  like  it.  With  any  man  in  the  world  but  Potts  that 
plan  would  have  been  a  stroke  of  genius.  But  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  this  thing  has  robbed  me 
of  sleep  for  three  months.  Potts  has  got  me  talking 


ADVENTURE   OF   BILLY    DURGIN,  SLEUTH     103 

to  myself.  I  wake  up  talking  of  him,  out  of  the  little 
sleep  I  do  get.  I'll  tell  you  the  fact  —  if  Potts  is 
here  six  weeks  longer,  and  let  to  finish  this  canvas, 
my  influence  in  Slocum  County  is  gone.  I  might  as 
well  give  up  and  move  on  to  another  town  myself, 
where  my  dreadful  secret  is  unknown." 

"  Nonsense  !     But  what  can  Billy  Durgin  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  desperate,  that's  all.  And  one  night 
Billy  had  me  meet  him  up  by  the  cemetery  —  he 
came  disguised  in  long  black  whiskers  —  and  he  told 
me  that  Potts  was  James  Carruthers,  better  known  to 
the  police  of  two  continents  as  '  Smooth  Jim,'  wanted 
for  robbing  the  post-office  at  Lima,  Ohio.  Of  course 
that's  nonsense.  Potts  hasn't  the  wit  to  rob  a  post- 
office.  But  I  didn't  have  the  heart  to  tell  Billy  so. 
I  told  him,  instead,  that  this  was  the  chance  of  his 
life  ;  to  fasten  to  Potts  like  an  enraged  leech,  and 
draw  out  every  secret  of  his  dark  past.  You  can't 
tell  —  Billy  might  find  something  to  pry  him  into  the 
next  county  with,  anyway." 

"  He  certainly  looked  charged  with  information 
this  afternoon.  He  was  fizzing  like  an  impatient 
soda  fountain.  But  why  did  he  follow  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  that  might  be  Billy's  roundabout  way  of 
getting  to  me.  The  other  time  he  shadowed  Marvin 
Chislett  to  get  a  message  to  me.  If  you're  a  detec 
tive,  you  can't  do  things  the  usual  way,  or  all  may  be 
lost." 

At  that  instant  a  low  whistle  sounded  in  our  ears,  a 
small  missile  was  thrown  over  the  evergreen  hedge, 


104  THE    BOSS    OF   LITTLE    ARCADY 

bounding  almost  to  our  feet,  and  a  slight  but  mus 
cular  figure  was  seen  retreating  swiftly  into  the  dusk. 

Solon  sprang  for  the  mysterious  object.  It  was  a 
stone,  about  which  was  wrapped  a  sheet  of  paper. 
This  he  took  off  and  smoothed  out.  By  the  fading 
light  we  made  out  to  read  :  "  Meet  me  at  graveyard 
steps  at  midnight.  You  know  who." 

We  looked  at  each  other.  "  Why  didn't  he  come 
in  here?"  I  asked. 

"  That  wouldn't  have  been  detective-like." 

"  But  the  graveyard  at  midnight !  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  won't  hold  out  for  midnight  — 
Billy  is  merely  poetic  at  times  —  and  maybe  if  we 
hurry  along,  we  can  catch  up  with  him  and  have  it 
out  by  the  marble  works  there  instead  of  going  clear 
on  to  the  cemetery.  Perhaps  that  will  be  near  enough 
in  the  right  spirit  for  Billy." 

Quickly  we  made  ready  for  the  desperate  assigna 
tion,  pulling  our  hats  well  down,  in  a  way  that  we 
thought  Billy  would  approve. 

Four  blocks  along  the  street,  by  rapid  walking,  we 
came  within  hail  of  the  intrepid  young  detective. 
We  were  also  opposite  the  marble  yard  of  Cornelius 
Lawson,  who  wrought  monuments  for  the  dead  of 
Little  Arcady.  In  front  of  the  shop  were  a  dozen 
finished  and  half-finished  stones,  ghostly  white  in  the 
dusk.  It  seemed  indeed  to  be  a  spot  impressive 
enough  to  meet  even  Billy's  captious  requirements, 
but  we  had  underrated  the  demands  of  his  artist's 
conscience.  Solon  called  to  him. 


ADVENTURE   OF   BILLY   DURGIN,  SLEUTH      105 

"  Won't  this  do,  Billy  ?  " 

Billy  stopped  dramatically,  turned  back  upon  us, 
and  then  exploded:  — 

"  Fools  !  Would  you  ruin  all  ?  You  must  not  be 
seen  addressing  me.  Now  I  must  disguise  myself." 

Turning  stealthily  from  us,  he  swiftly  adjusted  a 
beard  that  swept  its  sable  flow  down  his  youthful 
chest.  Then  he  addressed  us  again,  still  in  tense, 
hoarse  accents. 

"  Are  you  armed  ?  " 

"To  the  teeth!"  answered  Solon,  with  deadly 
grimness,  and  with  a  presence  of  mind  which  I 
envied. 

"  Then  follow  me,  but  at  a  distance  !  " 

Meekly  we  obeyed.  While  our  hero  stalked  ahead, 
stroking  his  luxuriant  whiskers  ever  and  anon,  we  pur 
sued  him  at  an  interval  so-  great  that  not  the  most  alert 
citizen  of  Little  Arcady  could  have  suspected  this  sin 
ister  undercurrent  to  his  simple  life. 

It  is  a  long  walk  to  the  cemetery,  but  we  reached  it 
to  find  Billy  seated  on  the  steps  that  lead  over  the 
fence,  still  shielded  by  his  hairy  envelope. 

"  A  tough  case !  "  he  whispered  as  we  sat  by  him. 
"  Our  man  has  his  spies  out,  and  my  every  step  is 
dogged  both  night  and  day." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  we  asked. 

"You  know  that  slim  little  duck  that  got  in  last 
night,  purtendin'  he's  a  shoe-drummer  ?  Well,  he's  a 
detective  hired  by  Potts  to  shadow  me.  You  know 
that  big  fat  one,  lettin'  on  he's  agent  for  the  None- 


106  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

such  Duplex  Washin'  Machine  ?  He's  another.  You 
know  that  slick-lookin'  cuss  —  like  a  minister  —  been 
here  all  week,  makin'  out  he  was  canvassin'  for  'The 
Scenic  Wonders  of  Our  Land '  at  a  dollar  a  part, 
thirty-six  parts  and  a  portfoly  to  pack  'em  away  in  ? 
Well,  he's  an  —  " 

"  Hold  on,  Billy,  let's  get  down  to  business," 
reminded  Solon. 

"  But  I've  throwed  'em  all  off  for  the  nonce,"  con 
tinued  Billy,  looking  closely,  I  thought,  to  see  if  we 
were  rightly  affected  by  "nonce." 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  been  the  .toughest  darned  case  in  my 
whole  experience  as  an  inside  man." 

He  waited  for  this  to  move  us. 

"  What  have  you  found  out  ?  "  asked  Solon  ;  "  and 
say,  can't  you  take  off  those  whiskers,  now  that  we 
are  alone  and  unobserved  ?  You  know  they  kind  of 
scramble  your  voice." 

With  cautious  looks  all  about  him,  Billy  bared  his 
tender  young  face  to  the  night.  A  weak  wind  fretted 
in  the  cedars  back  of  us,  and  an  owl  hooted.  It  was 
not  an  occasion  that  he  would  permit  to  glide  by  him 
too  swiftly. 

"  Well,  first  I  had  to  git  my  skeleton  keys  made." 

"  I  thought  you  said  his  door  was  never  locked," 
interrupted  Solon. 

"That  might  be  only  a  ruse,"  suggested  our  hero. 
"  Well,  I  got  my  keys  made,  and  then  I  begun  to 
search  his  room.  That's  always  a  delicate  job.  You 
got  to  know  just  how.  First  I  looked  under  the 


ADVENTURE   OF  BILLY   DURGIN,   SLEUTH      107 

aidges  of  the  carpet,  clear  around.  Nothing  re 
warded  my  masterly  search.  Then  I  examines  the 
bed  and  mattress  inch  by  inch,  with  the  same  dis- 
couragin'  results."  Billy  had  now  drifted  fairly  into 
the  exciting  manner  of  his  favorite  authors. 

"  Baffled,  but  not  beaten,  I  nex'  turns  my  atten 
tion  to  the  pictures,  examinin'  with  a  trained  eye  the 
backs  of  same,  where  might  be  cunningly  concealed 
the  old  will  —  uh  —  I  mean  the  incriminatin'  docka- 
ments  that  would  bring  the  craven  wretch  to  bay  and 
land  him  safely  behind  the  bars  of  jestice.  But  it 
seemed  like  I  had  the  cunning  of  a  fiend  to  contend 
with.  No  objeks  of  interest  was  revealed  to  my  swift 
but  thorough  examination.  Thence  I  directed  my 
attentions  to  the  wall-paper,  well  knowin'  the  desper 
ate  tricks  to  which  the  higher  class  of  criminal  will 
ofttimes  resort  to.  Once  I  thought  the  game  was 
up  and  all  was  lost.  That  new  Swede  chambermaid 
walks  right  in  an'  ketches  me  at  my  delicate  tasks. 

"  Always  retainin'  my  calm  presence  of  mind  and 
coolness  in  emergencies,  quick  to  think  an'  as  ready 
to  act,  with  an  undaunted  bravery  I  sprang  at  the 
girl's  throat  and  hissed,  '  How  much  will  it  take 
to  silence  your  accursed  tongue  ? '  She  draws  her 
slight  girlish  figure  up  to  its  full  height  —  'Ten  thou 
sand  dollars ! '  she  hissed  back  at  me.  '  Ten  thou 
sand  devils!'  I  cried,  hoarse  with  rage  — 

Too  palpably  our  hero  had  been  overwhelmed  by 
his  passion  for  fictitious  prose  narrative. 
'  "  Hold  on,  Billy !  —  back  up,"  broke  in  Solon.    "  This 


108  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

is  business,  you  know  —  this  isn't  an  Old  Cap'  Collyer 
tale." 

"Well,  anyway,"  resumed  Billy,  a  little  abashed, 
"  I  silenced  the  girl.  I  threatened  to  have  her  trans 
ported  for  life  if  she  breathed  a  word.  Mebbe  she 
didn't  suspect  anything  after  all.  Tilly  ain't  so  very 
bright.  So  at  length  I  continues  my  researches  into 
every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  den,  and  jest  as  I  was 
about  to  abandon  the  trail,  baffled  and  beaten  at  every 
turn,  what  should  I  git  but  an  idee  to  look  at  some 
papers  lyin'  in  plain  sight  on  the  table  at  the  head  of 
the  bed." 

"Well,  out  with  it !  "  I  thought  Solon  was  grow 
ing  a  little  impatient.  But  Billy  controlled  the  situa 
tion  with  a  firm  hand. 

"  It's  an  old  trick,"  he  continued,  "  one  that's  fooled 
many  a  better  man  than  Billy  Durgin  —  leavin'  the 
dockaments  carelessly  exposed  like  they  didn't  amount 
to  anything ;  but  havin'  the  well-known  tenacity  of 
a  bloodhound,  I  was  not  to  be  thwarted.  Well  —  to 
make  a  long  story  short  —  " 

Solon  brightened  wonderfully. 

"  I  have  to  admit  that  my  first  suspicion  was  in 
correct.  He  ain't  the  one  that  done  that  Lima,  Ohio, 
job  and  carried  off  them  eight  hundred  dollars'  worth 
of  stamps  — 

"  But  what  did  he  do  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  got  a  clew  to  another  past  of  his  — 

"  What  is  it  ?     Let's  have  it !  " 

Billy  was  still  not  to  be  driven  faster  than  a  de 
tective  story  should  move. 


ADVENTURE   OF   BILLY   DURGIN,  SLEUTH       109 

We  heard,  and  dimly  saw,  him  engaged  with  a 
metallic  object  which  he  drew  from  under  his  coat. 
We  were  silent.  Then  we  heard  him  say  :  — 

"My  lamp's  went  out  —  dam  these  matches !  " 

At  last  he  seemed  to  light  something.  He  unfolded 
a  bit  of  paper  before  us  and  triumphantly  across  its 
surface  he  directed  the  rays  of  a  bull's-eye  lantern. 
This  was  his  climax.  We  studied  the  paper. 

"  Billy,"  said  Solon,  after  a  pause,  "this  looks  like 
a  good  night's  work.  True,  it  may  come  to  naught. 
We  may  still  be  baffled,  foiled,  thwarted  at  every  turn 
—  and  yet  something  tells  me  that  the  man  is  in  our 
power  —  that  by  this  precious  paper  we  may  yet 
bring  the  scoundrel  to  his  knees  in  prayers  for  our 
mercy,  craven  with  fear  at  our  knowledge." 

"  Say,"  said  Billy,  stung  to  admiration  by  this  flow 
of  the  right  sort  of  talk,  "  Mr.  Denney,  did  you  ever 
read  '  Little  Rosebud,  or  is  Beauty  a  Curse  to  a  Poor 
Girl  ? '  That  sounded  just  like  the  detective  in  that 
—  you  remember  —  where  he's  talkin'  to  Clarence 
Armytage  just  after  he's  overheard  the  old  lawyer 
tell  Mark  Vinton,  the  villain,  '  If  this  child  lives,  you 
are  a  beggar  !  '  Remember  that  ? " 

"  Why,  no,  Billy.  I  must  get  that,  first  thing  in 
the  morning.  My  tribute  to  your  professional  skill 
was  wholly  spontaneous,  though  perhaps  a  shade  in 
fluenced  by  having  listened  to  your  own  graphic  style. 
But  come,  men  !  Let  us  separate  and  be  off,  ere  we 
are  discovered.  And  mind,  not  a  word  of  this.  One 
fa4se  step  might  ruin  all !  So  have  a  care." 


110  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

It  must  have  been  one  of  the  few  perfect  moments 
in  the  life  of  Billy. 

"  You  may  rely  upon  William  Durgin  to  the  bitter 
end,"  said  he,  with  a  quiet  dignity.  "  But  there  is 
work  yet  ahead  for  me  to-night. 

"  I  got  to  regain  my  hotel  unobserved.  My  life  is 
not  safe  a  moment  with  my  every  step  dogged  by  the 
hired  assassins  of  that  infamous  scoundrel." 

"  If  death  or  disaster  come  to  you,  Billy,  you  shall 
not  be  unavenged.  We  swear  it  here  on  this  spot. 
Swear,  Cal !  " 

"Say,"  Billy  called  back  to  us,  after  adjusting  his 
beard,  "  if  anything  comes  of  this,  —  rewards  or  any 
thing,  —  first  thing  I'm  goin'  a'  do  —  git  me  a  good 
forty-four  Colts.  You  can't  stop  a  man  with  this 
here  little  twenty-two,  an'  it's  only  a  one-shot  at  that. 
I'd  be  in  a  nice  hole  sometime,  wouldn't  I,  with  my 
back  up  against  a  wall  an'  six  or  seven  of  'em  comin' 
for  me  an'  nothin'  but  this  in  my  jeans? " 

"  Point  that  the  other  way,  Billy  —  we'll  see  about 
a  bigger  one  later.  We  can't  do  anything  to-night. 
And  sell  your  life  as  dearly  as  possible  if  you  have  to 
sell  it." 

I  fell  asleep  that  night  on  a  conviction  that  our 
taste  for  barren  reality  is  our  chief  error.  If  we  could 
only  believe  forever,  what  a  good  world  it  could  be  — 
"  a  world  of  fine  fabling,"  indeed  !  Also  I  wondered 
what  J.  Rodney  Potts  might  have  to  apprehend  from 
the  leaven  of  fact  in  the  fabling  of  Billy  Durgin. 


CHAPTER   IX 

HOW    THE    BOSS    SAVED    HIMSELF 

HE  whom  they  had,  with  facetious  intent,  called 
"  the  Boss  of  Little  Arcady  "  now  began  to  wear  a 
mien  of  defiance.  From  being  confessedly  distraught, 
he  displayed,  as  the  days  went  by,  a  spiritual  uplift 
that  fell  but  little  short  of  arrogance.  He  did  not 
permit  any  reason  to  be  revealed  for  this  marked 
change  of  demeanor.  He  was  confident  but  secre 
tive,  serene  but  furtive,  as  one  who  has  endured  gibes 
for  the  sake  of  one  brilliant  coup. 

This  apparently  causeless  change  permeated  even 
to  the  columns  of  the  Argus.  It  had  been  observed 
by  more  than  one  of  us  that  these  had  of  late  suffered 
from  the  depression  of  their  editor.  Their  general 
tone  had  been  negative.  Now  they  spoke  in  a  light 
some  tone  of  self-sufficiency.  They  were  gay,  even 
jaunty.  It  was  in  this  very  epoch  that  the  verse  was 
born  which  for  many  years  sang  blithely  from  the  top 
of  the  first  column —  sang  of  Denney's  public-spirited 
optimism  as  to  Slocum  County  and  the  Little  Country. 

Keep  your  eye  on  Slocum, 

She's  all  right ! 
Her  skies  are  clear  and  full  of  cheer, 

And  all  her  prospects  bright. 
in 


112  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

As  pointing  more  specifically  to  the  incubus  of 
Potts,  there  was  this  :  — 

"  Lots  of  people  are  saying  that  we  have  met  our 
Waterloo.  They  forget  that  Waterloo  was  a  victory 
as  well  as  a  defeat.  Two  men  met  it,  and  the  name 
of  one  was  Wellington.  Look  it  up  in  your  encyclo 
paedia." 

But  the  faction  of  Potts,  it  should  be  noted,  saw  no 
reason  to  be  impressed  by  a  vaunting  so  vague.  It 
had  not  tempered  its  hopefulness. 

Its  idol  was  jubilant,  careless  as  a  schoolboy,  bab 
bling  but  sober.  The  Banner  still  challenged  the  world 
with  its  page-wide  line :  "  Potts  Forever !  Potts  the 
Coming  Man !  " 

Certain  hopeful  souls  among  the  opposition  had 
taken  counsel  how  they  might  cause  Potts  to  fall  by 
means  of  strong  drink.  They  had  observed  that  the 
mill-race  was  still  significantly  uncovered.  But  to 
all  invitations,  all  cunning  incitements  to  indulgence, 
Potts  was  urbanely  resistant.  Conscious  that  a  river 
of  strong  waters  rippled  at  his  feet,  freely  to  be  par 
taken  of  did  he  choose,  it  is  true  that  his  face  showed 
lines  of  restraint,  a  serene  restraint,  like  unto  that  which 
the  great  old  painters  limned  so  beautifully  upon  the 
face  of  the  martyr.  But  the  martyrs  of  old  in  their 
ecstasy  were  not  more  resolute  than  Potts.  It  is  proba 
ble  that  he  looked  forward  to  a  period  of  post-election 
refreshment ;  but  pending  the  first  Tuesday  after  the 
first  Monday  in  November,  his  determination  was  such 
that  it  stamped  his  face  with  something  akin  to  dignity. 


HOW   THE   BOSS   SAVED   HIMSELF  113 

Said  Westley  Keyts,  "  If  it  was  raining  whiskey,  Potts 
wouldn't  drink  as  much  as  he  could  ketch  on  a  fork  !  " 
and  to  this  the  town  agreed.  For  once  Potts  was 
firm. 

His  alpaca  suit  had  visibly  deteriorated  during  the 
campaign,  and  his  tall  hat  again  cried  for  the  glossing 
ministry  of  a  heated  iron,  but  his  virtue  burgeoned 
under  stress  and  flowered  to  beauty  in  the  sight  of 
men.  It  was  understood  at  last  that  the  mill-race 
might  as  well  be  covered  for  any  adventitious  relation 
it  could  sustain  to  Potts  drunk. 

Westley  Keyts's  suggestion  that  Potts  be  weighted 
with  pig-iron  and  dumped  into  the  healing  waters, 
drunk  or  sober,  was  the  mere  playfulness  of  an  excel 
lent  butcher  unpractised  in  sarcasm.  His  offer  to 
supply,  free  of  cost,  a  quantity  of  pig-iron  ample  for 
the  purpose  left  this  hypothesis  unavoidable,  for 
Westley  winked  flagrantly  and  leered  when  he 
voiced  it. 

But  a  retribution  subtler  than  mere  drowning 
awaited  the  superfluous  Potts;  a  retribution  so  sim 
ple  of  mechanism,  so  swift,  so  potent,  and  wrought 
with  a  talent  so  masterly,  that  the  right  of  its 
instigator  to  the  title  of  Boss  of  Little  Arcady 
seemed  to  be  unassailable  for  all  future  time. 

At  the  very  zenith  of  his  heavenward  flight  Potts 
was  brought  low.  At  the  very  nethermost  point  of 
his  downward  swoop  Solon  Denney  was  raised  to  a 
height  so  dizzy  that  even  the  erstwhile  sceptic  spirit 
of-  Westley  Keyts  abased  itself  before  him,  frankly 


114  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

conceding  that  diplomacy's  innocent  and  mush-like 
surface  might  conceal  springs  of  a  terrible  potency. 

Though  Solon's  public  mien  for  a  week  or  more 
had  been  hint  enough  of  his  secret  to  those  who 
knew  him  well,  I  was,  possibly,  the  first  to  whom 
he  confided  it  in  words. 

He  sent  for  me  one  crisp  October  morning,  and  I 
rushed  over  to  the  Argus  office,  knowing  that  he  must 
have  matters  of  importance  to  communicate. 

I  found  him  pacing  the  little  sanctum,  scanning  a 
still  damp  sheet  of  proof.  His  brow  was  furrowed, 
but  the  lines  were  those  of  conscious  power.  In  the 
broken  chair  by  the  littered  desk  sat  Billy  Durgin,  his 
eyes  ablaze  with  the  lust  of  the  chase.  As  I  pushed 
into  the  dingy  little  room  Solon  halted  in  his  walk 
and,  with  a  flourish  that  did  not  entirely  lack  the  dra 
matic,  he  handed  me  the  narrow  strip  of  paper.  The 
item  was  brief. 

"  Mrs.  J.  Rodney  Potts,  the  estimable  wife  of 
Colonel  J.  Rodney  Potts  of  this  town,  will  arrive 
here  from  the  East  next  Thursday  to  make  her  home 
among  us." 

I  looked  up,  to  find  them  eager  for  my  comment. 

"  Is  it  true  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  It  is,"  said  Solon.  "  I  shall  meet  the  lady  on 
the  arrival  of  the  eleven-eight  train  next  Thursday." 

"Well  — what  of  it?" 

"  We  are  now  about  to  see  'what  of  it.'  My  trusty 
and  fearless  young  lieutenant  here  "  -  he  indicated 
Billy,  who  coughed  in  his  hand  and  looked  modestly 


HOW   THE   BOSS    SAVED   HIMSELF  115 

out  the  window  — "  is  now  about  to  beard  Potts  in 
his  den  and  find  out  'what  of  it.'  I  may  say  that 
we  hope  there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  it.  I  gather 
as  much  from  the  correspondence  of  the  last  three 
weeks  with  the  lady  referred  to  in  that  simple  galley 
proof,  which  I  set  up  and  pulled  with  my  own  hands. 
In  this  opinion  I  am  not  alone.  It  is  shared  by  my 
able  and  dauntless  young  coadjutor,  before  whom  I 
can  see  a  future  so  brilliant  that  you  need  smoked 
glasses  to  look  at  it  very  long  at  a  time." 

The  gallant  young  detective  turned  from  the  win 
dow. 

"  The  hour  has  come  to  strike  our  blow,"  he  re 
marked,  his  brow  contracting  to  a  scowl  that  boded 
no  good  to  a  certain  upright  citizen  of  this  great 
republic. 

"  I  have  thought  it  best,"  resumed  Solon,  "  to  take 
Potts  into  our  confidence  at  precisely  this  stage  — 
giving  him  this  exclusive  news  one  day  in  advance 
of  its  publication.  To-morrow,  when  every  one  knows 
it,  Potts  might  be  rash  enough  to  stay  and  brave  it 
out.  Being  advised  to-day,  privately,  and  thus  af 
forded  a  chance  to  fade  gracefully  into  the  great 
bounding  West,  he  may  use  his  common  sense.  Now 
then,  officer,  do  your  duty !  " 

Our  hero  arose  from  his  chair,  buttoned  his  coat, 
passed  a  hand  caressingly  over  his  hip  pocket,  took 
the  proof  from  me,  and  stalked  grimly  out. 

"  So  the  lady  is  really  coming  ?  "  I  asked,  as  Billy's 
footsteps  died  away  down  the  wooden  stairs. 


Il6  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  She  is,  the  lady  and  her  little  son,"  said  Solon, 
resuming  his  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  "  She 
is  coming  all  the  way  from  Boston,.  Massachusetts. 
And  I  don't  believe  she  quite  knows  what  she's 
coming  to.  She  speaks  in  a  strange  manner  of  her 
hope  that  she  may  be  able  to  do  good  among  us, 
and  in  her  last  letter  she  wants  to  know  if  I  have 
ever  seen  a  little  book  called  '  One  Hundred  Com 
mon  Errors  in  Speaking  and  Writing.'  She  seems 
to  have  the  missionary  instinct,  as  nearly  as  I  can 
judge." 

He  paused  in  his  walk  and  lowered  his  voice  im 
pressively. 

"  Between  you  and  me,  Cal,  —  you  know  I've  had 
about  six  letters  from  her,  —  it's  just  possible  that 
Potts  had  his  reasons.  I  don't  say  he  did,  mind  you, 
—  but  strange  things  happen  in  this  world. 

"  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there,"  he  went  on 
more  lightly.  "  Potts  has  brought  it  on  himself." 

In  silence,  then,  we  awaited  the  return  of  the 
messenger.  The  moment  was  tensely  electric  when 
at  last  we  heard  the  clatter  of  his  boots  on  the  stair 
way.  Breathless,  he  entered  and  stood  before  us, 
his  coolness  for  once  destroyed  under  the  strain  of 
his  adventure.  Solon  helped  him  to  a  chair  with 
soothing  words. 

"  Take  it  easy  now,  Billy !      Get  your  breath  — 
there  —  that's  good  !     Now  tell  us  all  about  it  —  just 
what  you  said  and  just  what  he  said  and  just  what 
talk  there  was  back  and  forth." 


HOW   THE   BOSS   SAVED   HIMSELF  117 

"  Gosh-all- Hemlock !  "  spluttered  Billy,  not  yet 
equal  to  his  best  narrative  style. 

We  waited.  He  drew  a  dozen  long  breaths  be 
fore  he  was  again  the  cold,  self-possessed,  steely-eyed 
avenger. 

"  Well,"  he  began  brightly,  "  I  gains  access  to 
our  man  in  his  wretched  den  on  the  second  floor  of 
the  Eubanks  Block.  As  good  luck  would  have  it, 
he  was  alone  by  hisself,  walkin'  up  and  down, 
swingin'  his  arms  like  he  was  practisin'  one  o'  them 
speeches  of  his. 

"  Well,  I  had  it  all  fixed  up  fine  how  I  was  goin' 
to  act,  and  what  I  was  goin'  to  say  to  him,  and  how 
I'd  back  up  a  few  paces  against  the  wall  and  say, 
'  Not  a  word  above  a  whisper,  or  I'll  send  this  bullet 
through  your  craven  heart ! '  and  he'd  fall  down  on 
his  knees  and  beg  me  in  vain  for  mercy  and  so  on. 
But  Gee !  the  minute  I  seen  him  I  got  all  nervoused 
up  and  I  jest  says,  '  Here,  read  that  there  piece  — 
your  wife's  comin'  next  Thursday  ! ' 

"Well,  sir,  at  those  careless  words  of  mine  he 
gives  a  guilty  start,  his  face  blanched  with  horror, 
and  he  hissed  through  his  set  teeth,  '  Which  one  ? '  — 
as  quick  as  that. 

"Me? — I  couldn't  git  out  a  word  for  a  minute, 
and  he  started  for  me.  'Which  one?'  he  repeats, 
hoarse  with  rage,  and  that  gives  me  an  idee.  '  Stand 
back  ! '  I  cried  fearlessly,  '  stand  back,  coward  that 
you  are  —  make  no  word  of  outcry,  or  it  will  go  hard 
with  you  —  they're  both  comin','  I  says,  —  'this  one's 


Il8  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

comin'  next  week  and  the  other  one's  comin'  the 
week  after,  soon  as  she  can  git  some  sewin'  done 
up.'  Me f  —  I  was  leadin'  him  on,  you  understand  — 
for  we  hadn't  knowed  there  was  more  than  one. 
Well,  at  that  he  read  the  piece  over  and  set  down 
in  his  chair  with  both  hands  up  to  his  head  and  he 
says,  '  I'm  bein'  hounded  by  a  venal  press,  that's 
what's  the  matter ;  I'm  bein'  hounded  from  pillar  to 
post.' 

"At  this  I  broke  in  with  a  sneer,  —  'Oh,  we've 
only  just  began,'  I  says.  'We'll  have  the  whole 
lot  of  'em  here  inside  of  six  weeks — children  and 
all.'  '  It's  a  lie,'  he  hissed  at  me.  '  There  ain't  any 
more.' 

"  '  Have  a  care,  Colonel  Potts,'  I  exclaimed,  '  or  first 
thing  you  know  you  will  rue  those  there  words  bit 
terly  !  I  will  not  brook  your  dastardly  insults,'  I 
says,  '  and  besides,'  I  added  with  a  sudden  idee,  '  it 
looks  like  two  wives  will  warm  things  up  plenty  for 
you.' 

"  At  them  words  his  craven  face  turned  an  ashen 
gray,  and  he  fastened  upon  me  a  glare  of  baffled  rage 
that  might  well  have  made  a  stouter  heart  quail  be 
fore  it,  but  I  returned  his  glare  fearlessly  and  backed 
swif'ly  to  the  door,  feelin'  for  the  knob.  When  I 
found  it,  I  got  quickly  out,  without  a  blow  bein'  struck 
or  a  shot  fired.  Then  I  run  here." 

Early  in  the  narrative  Solon  had  begun  to  beam, 
identifying  readily  the  slender  but  important  vertebrae 
of  fact  upon  which  Billy  had  organized  this  drama  of 


HOW   THE   BOSS   SAVED   HIMSELF  119 

his, fancy.  At  the  close  he  shook  hands  warmly  with 
our  hero. 

"This  has  been  a  splendid  day's  work,  William 
Durgin  ! "  and  Billy  beamed  in  his  turn. 

"  I  wasn't  goin'  to  let  him  know  we  thought  there 
was  only  one,"  he  said. 

"  Precisely  where  your  training  showed,  my  boy. 
Any  one  could  have  handed  Potts  that  proof,  but  it 
took  you  to  handle  the  case  after  the  scoundrel  had 
said  '  Which  one  ? '  Well,  it's  Potts's  move  now.  If 
he  doesn't  move,  we'll  just  add  this  to  the  item : 
'  Mrs.  J.  Rodney  Potts,  wife  of  Colonel  J.  Rodney 
Potts,  will  arrive  again  the  following  week.  The 
ladies  anticipate  an  interesting  time  in  meeting  their 
mutual  husband.'  How's  that  ?  " 

Billy's  eyes  glistened  —  he  was  yearning  for  just 
that  situation. 

"But  if  Potts  does  move,"  added  Solon,  "not  a 
word  about  the  second  lady.  We  won't  take  a  mean 
advantage,  even  of  Potts." 

At  six  o'clock  that  evening  the  following  facts  be 
came  known :  that  Colonel  Potts  had  obtained  a 
quart  of  whiskey  from  Barney  Skeyhan ;  that  he 
had  borrowed  twenty  dollars  from  the  same  trustful 
tradesman  ;  that,  his  cane  in  one  hand  and  his  oil 
cloth  valise  in  the  other,  he  had  walked  down  Main 
Street  late  in  the  afternoon  and  boarded  the  five 
twenty-eight  freight  going  West,  ostensibly  on  a 
business  trip  into  the  next  county. 

•Not  until  the  next  morning  was  it  known  that  Potts 


120  THE   BOSS   OF    LITTLE   ARCADY 

had  left  us  forever.  This  came  from  "  Big  Joe " 
Kestril.  The  two  had  met  at  the  depot  and  drunk 
fraternally  from  the  bottle  of  Potts,  discussing  the 
thing  frankly,  meanwhile. 

"  They've  hounded  me  out  of  town,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  How  ?  "  said  Big  Joe. 

"  They  sent  for  Mrs.  Potts  to  come  here  —  it's  in 
famous,  sir ! " 

It  appeared  that  Potts  had  said  further :  "  I  can't 
understand  the  men  of  this  town  at  all.  It  looks  as 
if  I  have  been  trifled  with,  much  as  I  dislike  to  think 
so.  One  minute  they  crowd  letters  on  to  me,  prais 
ing  me  up  to  the  skies,  and  print  pieces  in  the  paper 
saying  that  nothing  is  too  good  for  me  and  my  de 
parture  is  a  public  loss,  and  why  won't  I  remain  and 
be  a  credit  to  the  town  and  a  lot  more  like  that,  good 
and  strong.  Then  when  I  do  consent  to  remain, 
why,  what  do  they  do  ?  Do  they  grasp  my  hand  and 
say,  'Ah,  good  old  Potts — stanch  Potts,  loyal  Potts 
—  good  for  you  —  you  won't  desert  the  town!'  Do 
they  talk  that  way  ?  No,  they  do  not.  Instead  of 
talking  like  a  body  would  think  they'd  talk  after  all 
those  letters  and  things,  why,  they  turn  and  fling 
abuse  at  me  —  and  now  —  now  they've  gone  and 
done  this  hellish  thing !  I  won't  say  a  word  against 
any  man,  but  in  my  opinion  they're  a  passel  of 
knaves  and  lunatics.  Look  at  me,  Joe.  Yesterday 
I  was  a  made  man ;  to-day  I'm  all  ruined  up !  I 
merely  state  facts  and  let  you  draw  your  own  con 
clusions." 


HOW   THE   BOSS    SAVED    HIMSELF  121 

The  conclusions  which  Big  Joe  drew,  such  as  they 
were,  he  was  unable  to  communicate  intelligibly  until 
the  morrow,  for  the  train  was  late  and  they  drank  of 
the  liquor  until  the  Colonel  had  time  to  lament  his 
improvidence  in  bringing  away  so  little  of  it.  And 
by  the  time  Big  Joe's  report  was  abroad,  both  the 
Banner  and  the  Argus  were  out.  The  item  in  the 
latter  concerning  Mrs.  Potts  had  been  only  a  little 
altered. 

"  Mrs.  J.  Rodney  Potts,  wife  of  Colonel  J.  Rodney 
Potts,  until  yesterday  a  resident  of  this  town,  will 
arrive  here  next  Thursday  from  Boston,  Massachu 
setts,  to  make  her  home  among  us.  She  is  an  estima 
ble  and  cultured  lady,  and  we  bespeak  for  her  a  warm 
welcome  to  this  garden-spot  of  the  mid- West." 

Across  the  top  of  the  Banner's  first  page  was  its 
campaign  slogan  as  usual :  — 

"  POTTS  FOREVER  !     POTTS  THE  COMING  MAN  !  " 

Across  the  top  of  the  Argus  in  similar  type  ran 
the  pregnant  line  :  — 

"  POTTS  FOREVER,  BUT  MAYNE  FOR  COUNTY  JUDGE. 
THE  TROUBLE  WITH  THE  COMING  MAN  is  THAT 
HE'S  GONE!" 


CHAPTER   X 

A    LADY   OF   POWERS 

SUPERFICIALLY  and  distantly  considered,  the  woman 
from  whom  even  J.  Rodney  Potts  must  flee  in  terror 
would  not  be  of  a  sort  to  excite  the  imagination  pleas- 
urably.  A  less  impulsive  man  than  Solon  Denney 
might  have  found  cause  for  misgiving  in  this  circum 
stance  of  Potts's  prompt  exodus.  In  the  immediate 
flush  of  his  triumph,  however,  the  editor  of  the  Argtis 
had  no  leisure  for  negative  reflections,  and  when  mis 
giving  did  at  last  find  root  in  his  mind,  the  time  had 
come  for  him  to  receive  the  lady.  But  Solon  Denney 
was  not  the  man  to  betray  it  if  a  doubting  heart  beat 
within  his  breast.  To  the  town  that  now  lavished 
admiration  upon  him,  dubbing  him  "  Boss  "  without 
ulterior  implications,  he  was  confidence  itself,  and 
rife  with  prophecies  of  benefit  to  be  derived  by  our 
public  from  the  advent  of  Mrs.  Aurelia  Potts.  With 
a  gallant  show  of  anticipation,  a  sprig  of  geranium  in 
his  lapel,  he  set  out  for  the  train  on  that  fateful  morn 
ing,  while  Little  Arcady  awaited  his  return  with  a 
cordial  curiosity. 

It  was  a  gray  day  of  damp  air  and  a  dull,  thick  sky 
bearing  down  upon  the  earth  —  a  day  conducive  to 
forebodings.  But  Solon  Denney's  spirit,  to  the  best 


A   LADY   OF  POWERS  123 

of  Little  Arcady's  belief,  soared  aloft  to  realms  of 
pure  sunlight. 

My  knowledge  of  subsequent  events  that  day  was 
gained  partly  by  word  of  mouth  and  partly  by  obser 
vations  which  I  was  permitted  to  make. 

To  the  hotel  Solon  conducted  his  charges,  handing 
them  from  the  'bus  with  a  flourish  that  seemed  to 
confer  upon  them  the  freedom  of  the  city.  From 
shop  doors  and  adjacent  street  corners  the  most 
curious  among  us  beheld  a  tall,  full-figured  woman 
of  majestic  carriage,  with  a  high,  noble  forehead  and 
a  face  that  seemed  to  register  traces  of  some  thirty- 
five  earnest  but  not  unprofitable  years.  Even  in  the 
quick  glance  she  bestowed  up  and  down  Washington 
Street  before  the  hotel  swallowed  her  up,  her  quality 
was  to  be  noted  by  the  discerning,  —  the  quality  of  a 
commander,  of  one  born  to  prevail.  The  flash  of 
her  gray-green  eye  was  interested  but  unconcerned. 
Complemented  by  the  marked  auburn  of  her  plente 
ous  hair,  the  eyes  were  masterful,  advertising  most 
legibly  the  temperament  of  a  capable  ruler.  The 
subdued,  white-faced  boy  of  twelve,  with  hair  like  his 
mother's,  who  trotted  closely  at  her  heels  was,  for  the 
moment,  a  negligible  factor. 

An  hour  later  I  entered  the  sanctum  of  the  Argus, 
to  find  its  owner  alone  before  his  littered  table. 
Upon  his  usually  careless  face  was  the  most  pro 
foundly  thoughtful  look  I  had  ever  known  him  wear. 
Open  before  him  was  that  week's  Argus,  but  his 
eyes  narrowed  to  its  neat  columns  only  at  intervals. 


124  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

For  the  most  part  his  gaze  plunged  far  into  virgin 
realms  of  meditation.  It  was  only  after  several 
reminding  coughs  that  I  succeeded  in  recalling  him 
from  afield  ;  and  even  then  the  deeply  thoughtful 
look  remained  to  estrange  his  face  from  me. 

"Say,  Cal,  do  you  believe  in  powers?" 

"  What  kind  of  powers  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  —  every  kind  —  just  powers 

—  mystic,  occult  powers." 

"  I  don't  care  to  commit  myself  without  more 
details,"  I  answered  with  a  caution  that  seemed  to 
be  needed. 

"Well,  sir,  that  woman  has  'em  —  she  has  powers 

—  she  certainly  has.     There  is  something  in  her  eye 
that  paralyzes  the  will ;  you  look  at  her  and  you  say 
yes  to  anything  she  suggests." 

"  For  example  —  " 

"Well,  I've  just  agreed  with  her  that  the  Argus 
isn't  what  it  ought  to  be." 

I  gasped.  This  indeed  savored  of  the  blackest 
magic. 

"  What  did  she  do  to  you  ? " 

"  Just  looked  at  me,  that's  all,  —  and  took  it  for 
granted." 

"  Heavens  !     You're  shivering  !  " 

"You  wait — wait  till  she  talks  to  you!  She's 
promised  to  give  me  a  little  book,"  he  went  on  de 
jectedly,  "  '  One  Hundred  Common  Errors  in  Writ 
ing  and  Speaking,'  and  she  says  the  split  infinitive 
is  a  crime  in  this  nineteenth  century.  But,  say,  this 


A   LADY   OF   POWERS  125 

paper  would  never  get  to  press  if  I  took  time  to  un- 
split  all  my  infinitives." 

"  Well,  put  Billy  Durgin  to  work  on  her  case  right 
away,"  I  said  to  cheer  him.  "  If  the  woman  talks 
like  that,  I'll  bet  Billy  can  find  some  good  reason  why 
she  ought  to  push  on  after  the  Colonel." 

Again  his  deeply  thoughtful  gaze  bore  upon  me. 

"I'm  puzzled,"  he  said,  —  "honestly  puzzled.  I 
don't  know  whether  she'll  be  good  for  this  town  or 
not.  She  may  in  a  way  —  and  in  a  way  she  may 
not.  She  will  be  disturbing,  —  I  can  see  that  already, 
—  but  she  is  stimulating.  She  may  stir  us  up  to 
nobler  endeavors." 

"  Did  she  say  so  ? " 

"Well  —  uh  —  something  of  the  sort.  I  believe 
that  was  the  expression  she  used.  I'll  tell  you  what 
you  do.  You  come  along  with  me  and  see  the  lady 
right  now.  They've  had  dinner  by  this  time." 

Together  we  went  and  were  presently  climbing  the 
stairs  that  led  to  the  second  floor  of  the  City  Hotel. 

Mrs.  Potts  received  us  graciously.  Upon  me  she 
bestowed  a  glance  of  friendly  curiosity,  as  does 
a  kind  physician  who  waits  to  be  told  of  symptoms 
before  prescribing.  Upon  Solon  she  bent  a  more 
knowing  look,  as  upon  one  whose  frailties  have  al 
ready  been  revealed.  She  gave  us  chairs  and  she 
talked.  Little  Roscoe  Potts  writhed  near  by  upon 
an  ottoman  and  betrayed  that  he,  too,  could  talk 
when  circumstances  were  kindly.  The  detail  of  their 
personalities,  salient  in  that  first  moment,  was  that 


126  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Heaven  had  denied  them  both  the  gift  of  reti 
cence. 

"  Yes  —  I've  been  telling  Mr.  Denney  —  I  feel 
that  there  is  a  work  here  for  me,"  she  began  briskly. 
"  I  felt  it  strongly  when  I  perused  the  columns  of 
the  newspaper  which  Mr.  Denney  was  thoughtful 
enough  to  send  me." 

Solon's  eyes  uneasily  sought  the  cabbage-like 
flowers  in  the  faded  carpet  of  the  room. 

"  And  I  feel  it  more  strongly  now  that  I  have 
ventured  among  you,"  continued  the  lady,  glowing 
upon  us  both. 

"  I  have  long  suspected  that  it  was  a  regrettable 
waste  of  energy  to  send  missionaries  into  heathen 
parts  of  the  globe  when  there  remain  so  many  un 
enlightened  corners  in  our  own  land.  It  almost 
seems  now  as  if  I  had  been  guided  here.  It  is  true 
that  my  husband  has  gone,  but  that  shall  not  dis 
tress  me.  Rodney  is  a  drifter  —  I  may  say  a  natural- 
born  drifter,  and  I  cannot  undertake  to  follow  him. 
I  shall  remain  here.  I  have  been  guided—  "  deter 
mination  gleamed  in  her  gray-green  eyes,  —  "I  shall 
remain  here  and  teach  these  poor  people  to  make 
something  of  themselves." 

Solon  drew  a  long  breath.  My  own  echoed  it. 
Hereupon  little  Roscoe  broke  into  a  high-pitched 
recitative. 

"  We  are  now  in  the  great  boundless  West,  a  land 
of  rough  but  kind-hearted  and  worthy  folk,  and 
abounding  with  instructive  sights  and  scenes  which 
are  well  calculated  —  " 


A   LADY   OF   POWERS  127 

"My  son,"  interrupted  his  mother,  "kindly  tell 
the  gentlemen  what  should  be  your  aim  in  life." 

"To  strive  to  improve  my  natural  gifts  by  reading 
and  conversation,"  answered  Roscoe,  in  one  swift 
breath. 

"  Very  good  —  ver-ry  good  —  but  for  the  present 
you  may  listen.  Now,  Mr.  Denney  — "  she  turned 
to  Solon  with  the  latest  Argus  in  her  hand,  — "  pe 
rusing  your  sheet,  my  eye  lights  upon  this  sentence: — 

"  '  Lige  Brackett  Sundayed  in  our  midst.  He  re 
ports  a  busy  time  of  Fall  ploughing  over  Bethel  way.' 

"  Why  '  Sundayed,'  Mr.  Denney  ?  "  She  smiled 
brightly,  almost  archly,  at  Solon.  "  I  dare  say  you 
would  not  employ  '  Mondayed '  or  '  Tuesdayed '  or 
'  Wednesdayed.'  You  see  f  The  term  is  what  we 
may  call  a  vulgarism  —  you  perceive  that,  do  you  not  ? 
—  likewise  '  in  our  midst,'  which  is  not  accurate,  of 
course,  and  which  would  be  indelicate  if  it  were. 
Now  I  let  my  eye  descend  the  column  to  your  ac 
count  of  a  certain  social  function.  You  say,  '  The 
table  fairly  groaned  with  the  weight  of  good  things, 
and  a  good  time  was  had  by  all  present.'  Surely, 
Mr.  Denney,  you  are  a  man  not  without  culture  and 
refinement.  Had  you  but  taken  thought,  you  could 
as  well  have  said  that  '  An  elegant  collation  was 
served,  the  menu  including  many  choice  delicacies, 
and  the  affair  was  widely  pronounced  to  be  most 
enjoyable.'  " 

Solon's  frightened  eyes  besought  me,  but  I  could 
not  help  him,  and  again  he  was  forced  to  meet  the 


128  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

kindly,  almost  whimsically  accusing  gaze  of  the  censor, 
who  was  by  no  means  done  with  him. 

"  Again  I  read  here,  '  The  graveyard  fence  needs 
repairing  badly.'  Do  you  not  see,  Mr.  Denney,  how 
far  more  refined  it  were  to  say  '  God's  acre/  or  '  the 
marbled  city  of  the  dead '  ?  I  now  turn  from  mere 
solecisms  to  the  broader  question  of  taste.  Under 
the  heading  '  Hanged  in  Carroll  County/  I  read  an 
item  beginning,  '  At  eight-thirty,  A.M.,  last  Friday  the 
soul  of  Martin  G.  Buckley,  dressed  in  a  neat-fitting 
suit  of  black,  with  a  low  collar  and  black  cravat,  was 
ushered  into  the  presence  of  his  God.'  Pardon  me, 
but  do  we  not  find  here,  if  we  read  closely,  an  attempt 
to  blend  the  material  with  the  spiritual  with  a  result 
that  we  can  only  designate  as  infelicitous  ? " 

Solon  was  writhing  after  the  manner  of  uneasy 
little  Roscoe.  The  bland  but  inexorable  regard  of 
his  inquisitor  had  subdued  him  beyond  retort. 

"  I  might,  again,  call  your  attention  to  this  item." 
And  she  did,  reading  with  well-trained  inflection  :  — 

"  '  Kye  Mayabb  from  south  of  town  and  Sym  Pley- 
dell,  who  rents  the  Clemison  farm,  met  up  in  front  of 
Barney  Skeyhan's  place  last  Saturday  afternoon  and 
started  to  settle  an  old  grudge,  while  their  respective 
better  halves  looked  on  from  across  the  street.  Kye 
had  Sym  down  and  was  doing  some  good  work  with 
his  right,  when  his  wife  called  to  him,  "  Now,  Kye 
Mayabb,  you  come  right  away  from  there  before  you 
get  into  trouble."  Whereupon  the  valiant  better  half 
of  him  who  was  being  beaten  to  death  called  out 


A   LADY   OF   POWERS  129 

cheerily,  "  Don't  let  him  scare  you,  Sym  !  "  The  boys 
made  it  up  afterward,  but  our  little  street  was  quite 
lively  for  a  time.' 

"  Now  as  to  that,"  went  on  Mrs.  Potts,  affecting  to 
deliberate,  "  could  we  not  better  have  described  that 
as  '  a  disgraceful  street  brawl '  ?  And  yet  I  find  no 
word  of  deprecation.  It  is  told,  indeed,  with  a  regret 
table  flippancy.  Flippancy,  I  may  note  again,  mars 
the  following  item  :  '  They  tell  a  good  story  of  old 
Sarsius  Lambert  over  at  Bethel.  His  wife  was 
drowned  a  couple  of  weeks  ago,  and  Link  Talbot 
went  to  break  the  news  to  the  old  man.  "  Uncle 
Sarsh,"  says  Link,  "your  wife  is  drowned.  She  fell 
in  at  the  ford,  and  an  hour  later  they  found  her  two 
miles  down-stream."  "Two  miles  an  hour!"  said 
Uncle  Sarsius,  in  astonishment.  "  Well,  well,  she 
floated  down  quite  lively,  didn't  she  ? " ' 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  I  trust,"  said  Mrs.  Potts, 
"if  I  say  it  would  have  been  better  to  speak  of  the 
grief-stricken  husband  and  to  conclude  with  a  fitting 
sentiment  such  as  '  the  proudest  monuments  to  the 
sleeping  dead  are  reared  in  the  hearts  of  the  living.' " 

"  I'll  put  it  in  next  week,"  ventured  Solon,  meekly. 
"  I  didn't  think  of  it  at  the  time." 

"Ah,  but  one  should  always  think,  should  one 
not  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Potts,  almost  sweetly.  "  By  think 
ing,  for  example,  you  could  elevate  your  sheet  by 
eliminating  certain  misapplied  colloquialisms.  Here 
I  read :  '  The  rain  last  week  left  the  streets  in  a 
frightful  state.  The  mud  simply  won't  jell.'  " 


130  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Shame  mantled  the  brow  of  Solon  Denney. 

"  In  short,"  concluded  Mrs.  Potts,  "  I  regret  to  say 
that  your  paper  is  not  yet  one  that  I  could  wish  to 
put  into  the  hands  of  my  little  Roscoe." 

Little  Roscoe  coughed  sympathetically  and  re 
marked,  before  he  lost  his  chance  for  a  word  :  "  The 
boy  of  to-day  is  the  man  of  to-morrow.  Parents  can 
not  be  too  careful  about  what  their  little  ones  will 
read  during  the  long  winter  evenings  that  will  soon 
be  upon  us."  He  coughed  again  when  he  had 
finished. 

"The  press  is  a  mighty  lever  of  civilization,"  con 
tinued  the  mother,  with  an  approving  glance  at  her 
boy,  "  and  you,  Mr.  Denney,  should  feel  proud  indeed 
of  your  sacred  mission  to  instruct  and  elevate  these 
poor  people.  Of  course  I  shall  have  other  duties  to 
occupy  my  time  —  " 

Solon  had  glanced  up  brightly,  but  gloom  again 
overspread  his  face  as  she  continued  :  — 

"  Yet  I  shall  make  it  not  the  least  of  my  works  — 
if  a  poor  weak  woman  may  so  presume  —  to  help  you 
in  correcting  certain  faults  of  style  and  taste  in  your 
sheet,  for  it  goes  each  week  into  many  homes  where 
the  light  must  be  sorely  needed,  and  surely  you  and  I 
would  not  be  adequately  sensible  of  our  responsibili 
ties  if  we  continued  to  let  it  go  as  it  is.  Would  we  ?  " 
And  again  she  glowed  upon  Solon  with  the  conde 
scending  sweetness  of  a  Sabbath-school  teacher  to 
the  littlest  boy  in  her  class. 

But  now  we  both  breathed  more  freely,  for  she 


A   LADY   OF   POWERS  131 

allowed  the  wretched  Argus  to  drop  from  her  disap 
proving  fingers,  and  began  to  ask  us  questions,  as  to 
a  place  of  worship,  a  house  suitable  for  residence 
purposes,  a  school  for  little  Roscoe,  and  the  nature 
of  those  clubs  or  societies  for  mental  improvement 
that  might  exist  among  us.  And  she  asked  about 
Families.  We  were  obliged  to  confess  that  there 
were  no  Families  in  Little  Arcady,  in  the  true  sense 
of  the  term,  though  we  did  not  divine  its  true  sense 
until  she  favored  us  with  the  detail  that  her  second 
cousin  had  married  a  relative  of  the  Adams  family. 
We  said  honestly  that  we  were  devoid  of  Families  in 
that  sense.  None  of  us  had  ever  been  able  to  marry 
an  Adams.  No  Adams  with  a  consenting  mind  — 
not  even  a  partial  Adams  —  had  ever  come  among  us. 

Still,  Mrs.  Potts  wore  her  distinction  gracefully, 
and  was  even  a  little  apologetic. 

"  In  Boston,  you  know,  we  rather  like  to  know 
'who's  who,'  as  the  saying  is." 

"  Out  here,"  said  Solon,  "  we  like  to  know  what's 
what."  He  had  revived  wonderfully  after  his  beloved 
Argus  was  dropped.  But  at  his  retort  the  lady 
merely  elevated  her  rather  fine  brows  and  remarked, 
"  Really,  Mr.  Denney,  you  speak  much  as  you  write 
—  you  must  not  let  me  forget  to  give  you  that  little 
book  I  spoke  of." 

As  we  went  down  the  stairs  Solon  placed  "  One 
Hundred  Common  Errors  in  Speaking  and  Writing" 
close  under  his  arm,  adroitly  shielding  the  title  from 
public  scrutiny.  We  stood  a  moment  in  the  autumn 


132  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

silence  outside  the  hotel  door,  watching  a  maple 
across  the  street,  the  line  of  its  boughs  showing 
strong  and  black  amid  its  airy  yellow  plumage.  The 
still  air  was  full  of  leaves  that  sailed  to  earth  in  leis 
urely  sadness.  We  were  both  thoughtful. 

"  Mrs.  Potts  is  a  very  alert  and  capable  woman," 
I  said  at  last,  having  decided  that  this  would  be  the 
most  suitable  thing  to  say. 

"  I  tell  you  she  has  powers"  said  Solon,  in  a  tone 
almost  of  awe. 

"  She  will  teach  you  to  make  something  of  your 
self,"  I  hazarded. 

"  One  minute  she  makes  me  want  to  fight,  and  the 
next  I  surrender,"  he  answered  pathetically. 

We  separated  on  this,  Solon  going  toward  the 
Argus  office  with  slow  steps  and  bowed  head,  while  I 
went  thoughtfully  abroad  to  ease  my  nerves  by 
watching  the  splendid  death  of  summer.  Above  the 
hills,  now  royally  colored,  as  by  great  rugs  of  brown 
and  crimson  velvet  flung  over  their  flanks,  I  seemed 
to  hear  the  echoes  of  ironic  laughter  —  the  laughter 
of  perverse  gods  who  had  chosen  to  avenge  the  slight 
put  upon  an  inferior  Potts. 


CHAPTER   XI 

HOW    LITTLE    ARCADY    WAS    UPLIFTED 

THE  winter  that  followed  proved  to  be  a  season  of 
unrest  for  our  town.  Mrs.  Aurelia  Potts  was  a  leaven 
of  yeast  that  fermented  its  social  waters,  erstwhile 
calm,  not  to  say  stagnant. 

Early  in  November  an  evening  affair  was  held  in 
her  honor  at  the  Eubanks  home.  The  Eubankses 
being  our  leading  Presbyterians,  and  Mrs.  Potts 
having  allied  herself  with  that  church,  it  was  felt  that 
they  were  best  fitted  to  give  the  lady  her  initial  im 
pression  of  Little  Arcady's  society.  Not  only  were 
the  three  Eubanks  girls  talented,  but  the  mother  was 
a  social  leader,  Eustace  was  travelled,  having  been 
one  of  an  excursion  party  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  the 
family  had  relatives  living  in  Philadelphia.  None  of 
the  girls  had  married,  nor  had  Eustace.  The  girls, 
it  was  said,  had  not  wished  to  marry.  Eustace  had 
earnestly  wished  to,  it  was  known ;  but  two  of  our 
young  women  who  had  successively  found  favor  in 
his  sight  had  failed  to  please  his  mother  and  sisters, 
and  Eustace  was  said  to  be  watching  and  waiting  for 
one  upon  whom  all  could  agree,  though  every  one  but 
Eustace  himself  knew  this  was  an  utterly  hopeless 
vigil.  Meantime  the  mother  and  sisters  looked  up  to 

133 


134  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

him,  guarding  him  jealously  from  corrupting  associa 
tions,  saw  that  he  wore  his  overshoes  when  clouds 
lowered,  and  knitted  him  chest  protectors,  gloves, 
and  pulse  warmers  which  he  was  not  allowed  to  for 
get.  He  taught  the  Bible  Class  in  the  Presbyterian 
Sabbath  school,  sang  bass  in  the  choir,  and,  on  occa 
sion,  gave  an  excellent  entertainment  with  his  magic 
lantern,  with  views  of  the  Holy  Land,  which  he 
explained  with  a  running  fire  of  comment  both  in 
structive  and  entertaining. 

The  Eubanks  home  that  evening  was  said  by  a 
subsequent  Argus  to  have  been  "  ablaze  with  lights  " 
and  "  its  handsome  and  spacious  parlors  thronged 
with  the  elite  of  the  town  who  had  gathered  to  do 
honor  to  the  noted  guest  of  the  evening." 

There  first  occurred  a  piano  duet,  rendered  ex 
pertly  by  the  two  younger  Misses  Eubanks,  "  Listen 
to  the  Mocking  Bird,"  with  some  bewildering  varia 
tions  of  an  imitative  value,  done  by  the  Miss  Eubanks 
seated  at  the  right. 

Then  the  front  parlor  was  darkened  and,  after  the 
consequent  tittering  among  the  younger  set  had  died 
away,  Eustace  threw  his  pictures  upon  a  hanging 
sheet  and  delivered  his  agreeable  lecture  about  them, 
beginning  with  the  exciting  trip  from  Jaffa  to  Jerusa 
lem.  Most  of  those  present  had  enjoyed  the  privi 
lege  of  this  lecture  enough  times  to  know  what  picture 
was  coming  next  and  what  Eustace  would  say  about 
it.  But  it  was  thought  graceful  now,  considering 
the  presence  of  a  stranger,  to  simulate  the  expect- 


HOW    LITTLE    ARCADY   WAS   UPLIFTED       135 

ancy  of  the  uninformed,  and  to  emit  little  gasps  of 
astonished  delight  when  Eustace  would  say,  "  Pass 
ing  from  the  city  gates,  we  next  come  upon  a  view 
that  is  well  worthy  a  moment  of  our  attention." 

With  the  lights  up  again,  a  small  flask  of  water 
from  the  river  Jordan  was  handed  about,  to  be 
examined,  by  those  who  knew  it  too  well,  in  the  same 
loyal  spirit  of  curiosity.  A  guest  would  hold  it 
reverently  a  moment,  then  glance  up  in  search  of 
some  one  to  whom  it  might  be  heartily  extended. 

This  over,  the  elder  Miss  Eubanks  —  Marcella  of 
the  severe  mien  —  sang  interestingly,  "  I  gathered 
Shells  upon  the  Shore,"  and  for  an  encore,  in 
response  to  eager  demands,  "  Comin'  thro'  the 
Rye."  Not  coyly  did  she  give  this,  with  inciting, 
blushing  implications,  but  rather  with  an  unbending, 
disapproving  sternness,  as  if  with  intent  to  divert  the 
minds  of  her  listeners  from  the  song's  frank  ribaldry 
to  its  purely  musical  values. 

Eustace  f ollowed  with  a  solo  :  — 

"  Nigh  to  a  grave  that  was  newly  made, 
Leaned  a  sexton  old  on  his  earth-worn  spade." 

In  the  very  low  parts,  where  the  sexton  old  is  re 
quired  to  say,  "  I  gather  them  in,"  he  was  most 
effective,  and  many  of  his  more  susceptible  hearers 
shuddered.  For  an  encore  he  sang,  "  I  am  the  old 
Turnkey,"  which  goes  lower  and  lower  with  delib 
erate  steps  until  it  descends  to  incredible  depths  of 
bassness. 


136  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE  ARCADY 

It  was  a  rare  comfort  to  the  Eubanks  ladies  that 
Eustace  was  a  bass  instead  of  a  tenor.  They  had 
observed  that  most  tenor  songs  are  of  a  suggestive 
and  meretricious  character.  Arthur  Updyke,  for 
example,  who  clerked  in  the  city  drug  store,  was  a 
tenor,  and  nearly  all  of  his  songs  were  distressingly 
sentimental ;  indeed,  fairly  indelicate  at  times  in 
their  lack  of  reserve  about  kisses  and  embraces  and 
sighs  and  ecstasies.  Glad  indeed  were  the  guardians 
of  Eustace  that  his  voice  had  lowered  to  a  salutary 
depth,  and  that  bass  songs  in  general  were  pure  and 
innocent,  —  songs  of  death,  of  dungeons,  of  honest 
war,  or  of  diving  beneath  the  deep  blue  sea  —  down, 
down,  down,  as  far  as  the  singer's  chest  tones  per 
mitted.  With  "  Euty  "  a  tenor,  warbling  those  per 
nicious  boudoir  chansons  of  moonlight  and  longing 
of  sighing  love  and  anguished  passion,  they  suspected 
that  he  would  have  been  harder  to  manage.  Even  as 
it  was,  he  had  once  brought  home  a  most  dreadful 
thing  called  "  A  Bedouin  Love  Song,"  for  a  bass 
voice,  truly  enough,  but  so  fearfully  outspoken  about 
matters  far  better  left  unmentioned  among  nice  peo 
ple  that  the  three  girls  had  fled  horrified  from  the 
room  after  that  first  verse  :  — 

"  From  the  desert  I  come  to  thee, 
On  a  stallion  shod  with  fire, 
And  the  wind  is  left  behind 
In  the  speed  of  my  desire." 

The  mother  sped  to  her  daughters'  appeal  for  help 
and  required  her  son  to  sing  "  The  Lost  Chord  "  as 


HOW   LITTLE   ARCADY  WAS  UPLIFTED      137 

a  febrifuge.  The  other  song  was  confiscated  after 
the  mother  had  read  the  words  so  unblushingly 
penned  by  an  author  whom  she  ever  afterward 
deemed  an  abandoned  profligate.  She  considered 
that  Bedouins  must  be  unspeakable  creatures  —  but 
how  much  lower  the  mind  that  could  portray  their 
depravity,  and  send  it  out  into  the  world  for  innocent 
young  men  to  carol  in  the  homes  of  our  best  people ! 

Thereafter  Eustace  sang  only  songs  that  had  been 
censored  by  his  family,  and  his  repertoire  was  now 
stainless,  containing  no  song  in  which  a  romantic 
attachment  was  even  hinted  at ;  but  only  those  recit 
ing  wholesome  adventures,  military  and  marine, 
pastoral  scenes  and  occupations,  or  the  religious 
experience  of  the  singer. 

In  the  words  of  the  Argus,  "  his  powerful  singing 
was  highly  enjoyed  by  all  present." 

There  followed  the  feature  of  the  evening,  —  a  paper 
read  by  Mrs.  Potts ;  subject,  "  The  Message  of  Em 
erson."  With  an  agreeable  public  manner  the  lady 
erected  herself  at  one  corner  of  a  square  piano, 
placed  her  manuscripts  under  the  shaded  lamp,  and 
began.  The  subject,  aforetime  made  known  among 
us,  had  been  talked  about  and  perhaps  a  little  won 
dered  at.  It  is  certain,  at  least,  that  Westley  Keyts 
had  yielded  to  the  urging  of  his  good  wife  to  be 
present  in  the  belief  that  a  man  named  Emerson 
had  sent  Mrs.  Potts  a  telegram  to  be  read  to  us. 
This  was  what  "  the  message  of  Emerson  "  meant  to 
Westley,  and  the  novelty  of  it  had  seemed  to  justify 


138  THE   BOSS  OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

what  he  called  "  togging  up,"  after  a  hard  day's 
work  at  the  slaughter-house. 

If,  then,  he  listened  to  Mrs.  Potts  at  first  with 
wonder-widening  eyes,  amazed  at  Mr.  Emerson's 
recklessness  in  the  matter  of  telegrams,  and  if  at  last 
he  fell  into  gentle  slumber,  perhaps  it  was  only  that 
he  had  been  less  hardened  than  others  present  to  the 
rigors  of  social  nicety.  No  one  else  fell  asleep,  but  it 
was  noticed  that  the  guests,  when  the  paper  was 
done,  praised  it  to  one  another  in  swift  generalities 
and  with  averted  face,  as  if  they  sought  to  evade 
specific  or  pointed  inquiry  as  to  its  import.  But  the 
impression  made  by  the  reader  was  all  that  she  could 
have  wished,  and  the  gathering  was  presently  en 
grossed  with  refreshments.  The  Argus  stated  that 
"  a  dainty  collation  was  served  to  all  present,  the 
menu  comprising  the  choicest  delicacies  of  the  sea 
son,"  which  I  took  to  mean  that  Solon  was  trying  to 
profit  by  instruction  ;  and  that  never  again  would  he 
permit  a  table  in  the  Argus  to  groan  with  its  weight 
of  good  things. 

Westley  Keyts,  being  skilfully  awakened  without 
scandal  by  his  wife,  drank  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  to 
clear  his  brain,  and  cordially  consumed  as  many 
segments  of  cake  as  he  was  able  to  glean  from  pass 
ing  trays,  speculating  comfortably,  meanwhile,  about 
the  message  of  Emerson,  —  chiefly  as  to  why  Emer 
son  had  not  sent  it  by  mail,  thus  saving  —  he  esti 
mated  —  at  least  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  in 
telegraph  tolls. 


HOW   LITTLE   ARCADY   WAS   UPLIFTED      139 

Mrs.  Potts,  thus  auspiciously  launched  upon  the 
social  sea  of  Little  Arcady,  was  henceforth  to  occupy 
herself  prominently  with  the  regulation  of  its  ebb 
and  flow.  Already  she  had  organized  a  "  Ladies'  Lit 
erary  and  Home  Study  Club,"  and  had  promised  to 
read  a  paper  on  "  The  Lesson  of  Greek  Art "  at  its 
first  meeting  a  week  hence.  As  the  Argus  observed, 
"  it  was  certainly  a  gala  occasion,  and  one  and  all  felt 
that  it  was  indeed  good  to  be  there." 

In  addition  to  elevating  the  tone  of  our  intellectual 
life,  however,  Mrs.  Potts  found  it  necessary  to  sup 
port  herself  and  her  son.  That  she  could  devise  a 
way  to  merge  these  important  duties  will  perhaps  be 
surmised.  Comfortably  installed  in  a  cottage  at  the 
south  end  of  town  with  her  household  belongings, 
including  a  chair  once  sat  in  by  the  Adams-husband 
of  her  heaven-favored  second  cousin,  she  lost  no  time 
in  prosecuting  her  double  mission.  The  title  of  the 
work  with  which  she  began  her  task  of  uplifting  our 
masses  was  "  Gaskell's  Compendium  of  Forms,"  a 
meritorious  production  of  amazing  and  quite  infinite 
scope,  elegantly  illustrated.  The  book  weighed  five 
pounds  and  cost  three  dollars,  which  was  sixty  cents 
a  pound,  as  Westley  Keyts  took  the  trouble  to  as 
certain.  But  it  was  indeed  a  work  admirably  calcu 
lated  for  a  community  of  diversified  interests.  While 
Solon  Denney  might  occupy  himself  with  the  "  Aid  to 
English  Composition,"  including  "common  errors 
corrected,  good  taste,  figures  of  speech,  and  sentence 
building,"  the  Eubanks  ladies  could  further  inform 


140  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

themselves  upon  grave  affairs  of  "The  Home  and 
Family,  —  Life,  Health,  Happiness,  Human  Love," 
etc.,  or  upon  more  frivolous  concerns,  such  as  "  In 
troductions  and  Salutations,  Carriage  and  Horseback 
Riding,  Croquet,  Archery,  and  Matinee  parties,  and  the 
Art  of  Conversation."  While  Asa  Bundy  interested 
himself  in  "  History  of  Banking,  Forms  of  Notes, 
Checks  and  Drafts,  Interest  and  Usury  Tables, 
etc.,"  Truman  Baird,  who  meant  some  day  to  go  to 
Congress,  might  perfect  himself  in  Parliamentary  law 
and  oratory,  an  exposition  of  the  latter  art  being 
illumined  by  wood-cuts  of  a  bearded  and  handsome 
gentleman  in  evening  dress  who  assumed  the  various 
positions  of  emotion  or  passion,  as,  in  "Figure  8.  —  This 
gesture  is  used  in  concession,  submission,  humility," 
or,  in  Figure  9,  which  diagrams  reproach,  scorn,  and 
contempt.  While  Truman  sought  to  copy  these  at 
titudes,  to  place  the  feet  aright  for  Earnest  Appeal  or 
Bold  Assertion,  or  to  clasp  the  hands  as  directed  for 
Supplication  and  Earnest  Entreaty,  the  ladies  of  the 
Literary  and  Home  Study  Club  conned  the  chapter 
on  American  literature,  "  containing  choice  proverbs 
and  literary  selections  and  quotations  from  the 
poets  of  the  old  and  new  worlds."  Our  merchants 
found  information  as  to  "  Jobbing,  Importing  and 
Other  Business,"  and  our  young  ladies  could  ob 
serve  the  correct  forms  for  "  Letters  of  Love  and 
Courtship,"  "Apology  for  a  Broken  Engagement," 
"  French  Terms  used  in  Dancing,"  "  Rights  of 
Married  Women,"  "  The  Necessity  and  Sweet- 


HOW  LITTLE   ARCADY   WAS   UPLIFTED      141 

ness  of  Home,"  and  "Marriage — Happiness  or 
Woe  may  come  of  It." 

Again,  Westley  Keyts  could  read  how  to  cut  up 
meats.  He  knew  already,  but  this  chapter,  illustrated 
with  neat  carcasses  marked  off  into  numbered  squares, 
convinced  him  that  the  book  was  not  so  light  as  some 
of  its  other  chapters  indicated,  and  determined  him 
to  its  purchase. 

And  there  were  letters  for  every  conceivable  emer 
gency.  "  To  a  Young  Man  who  has  quarrelled  with 
his  Master,"  "  Dismissing  a  Teacher,"  "  Inquiry  for 
Lost  Baggage,"  "With  a  Basket  of  Fruit  to  an  In 
valid,"  and  "  To  a  Gentleman  elected  to  Congress." 
Rare  indeed,  in  our  earth  life,  would  be  the  crisis 
unmet  by  this  treasury  of  knowledge.  Not  only  was 
there  an  elevation  of  tone  in  our  correspondence  that 
winter,  resulting  from  the  persuasive  activities  of 
Mrs.  Potts,  but  our  writing  became  decorative  with 
flourishes  in  "  the  muscular  "  '  and  "  whole-arm  " 
movements.  We  learned  to  draw  flying  birds  and 
bounding  deer  and  floating  swans  with  scrolls  in  their 
beaks,  all  without  lifting  pen  from  paper.  Some  of 
us  learned  to  do  it  almost  as  well  as  the  accomplished 
Mr.  Gaskell  himself,  and  almost  all  of  us  showed 
marked  improvement  in  penmanship.  Doubtless 
Truman  Baird  did  not,  he  being  engrossed  with  ora 
tory,  striving  to  reproduce,  "  Hate  —  the  right  foot 
advanced,  the  face  turned  to  the  sky,  the  gaze  di 
rected  upward  with  a  fierce  expression,  the  eyes  full 
of  ,a  baleful  light,"  or  other  phases  of  passion  duly 


142  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

set  down.  Not  for  Truman  was  the  ornate  full-arm 
flourish  ;  he  had  observed  that  all  Congressmen  write 
very  badly. 

But  my  namesake  may  be  said  to  have  laid  the 
foundations  that  winter  for  an  excellent  running 
chirography,  under  the  combined  stimuli  of  Mr. 
Gaskell's  curves  and  a  hopeless  passion  for  his  school 
teacher. 

As  my  own  teacher  had  been  my  own  first  love,  I 
knew  all  that  he  suffered  in  voiceless  longing  for  his 
fair  one,  throned  afar  in  his  languishing  gaze.  I 
knew  that  he  plucked  flowers  meant  to  be  given  to 
her,  only  to  lay  them  carelessly  on  the  floor  beside 
his  seat  when  school  "took  in,"  lacking  the  courage 
to  bestow  them  brazenly  upon  his  idol  as  others  did. 
I  knew,  too,  his  thrill  when  she  came  straight  down 
the  aisle,  took  up  the  flowers  with  a  glance  of  sweet 
reproof  for  him,  and  nested  them  in  the  largest  vase 
on  her  desk.  But  my  poor  affair  had  been  in  an 
earlier  day,  and  my  namesake  wove  novelty  into  the 
woof  of  his.  For  in  that  wonder-book  of  the  fertile- 
minded  Gaskell  was  a  form  of  letter  which  Calvin 
Blake  Denney  began  to  copy  early  in  December,  and 
which  by  the  following  spring  he  could  write  in  a 
style  that  already  put  my  own  poor  penning  to  the 
blush.  Did  he  write  it  a  hundred  times  or  five  hun 
dred,  moved  anew  each  time  by  its  sweet  potencies, 
its  rarest  of  suggestions  ?  I  know  not,  but  it  must 
have  been  very  many  times,  for  I  would  find  the 
copies  in  his  school  books,  growing  in  beauty  of 


HOW   LITTLE   ARCADY   WAS   UPLIFTED      143 

flourish  day  by  day.  As  well  as  if  he  had  confessed 
it  I  knew  that  this  letter  was  intended  for  the  father 
of  his  love  —  for  old  Sam  Murdock,  to  be  literal,  who 
uncouthly  performed  for  us  the  offices  of  drayman  ; 
but  who,  in  my  namesake's  eyes,  shone  pure  and 
splendid  for  his  relationship.  Doubtless  the  letter 
was  never  sent,  but  I  am  sure  it  was  written  each 
time  with  an  iron  resolve  to  send  it.  Its  title  in  the 
excellent  book  was  "  From  a  Lover  to  a  Father  on 
his  Attachment  to  the  Daughter,"  and  it  ran  :  — 

DEAR  SIR  :  As  I  scorn  to  act  in  any  manner  that  may  bring 
reproach  upon  myself  and  family,  and  hold  clandestine  proceed 
ings  unbecoming  in  any  man  of  character,  I  take  the  liberty  of 
distinctly  avowing  my  love  for  your  daughter  and  humbly  request 
your  permission  to  pay  her  my  addresses,  as  I  flatter  myself  my 
family  and  expectancies  will  be  found  not  unworthy  of  your 
notice.  I  have  some  reason  to  imagine  that  I  am  not  altogether 
disagreeable  to  your  daughter,  but  I  assure  you  that  I  have  not 
as  yet  endeavored  to  win  her  affections,  for  fear  it  might  be  re 
pugnant  to  a  father's  will.  I  am,  etc. 

Under  this  was  provided  "  A  Favorable  Answer," 
in  which  Sam  Murdock  might  have  said  that  he  had 
long  perceived  this  thing  and  applauded  it,  and  would 
the  young  man  "  dine  with  us  to-morrow  at  six  if  you 
are  not  engaged,  and  you  will  then  have  an  opportu 
nity  to  plead  your  own  cause."  But  chillingly  after  this 
graceful  assent  followed  an  "  Unfavorable  Answer," 
which  Sam  Murdock  would  also  see  when  he  opened 
the  book  at  page  251  ;  and  still  more  portentously  on 
the  same  page  was  a  letter  which  Miss  Selina  Mur- 


144  THE  BOSS  OF  LITTLE  ARCADY 

dock  herself  might  choose  to  write  him,  a  sickening 
and  dreadful  thing  entitled,  "  Unfavorable  Reply  on 
the  Ground  of  Poverty." 

"  To  say  that  I  do  not  feel  pleased  and  flattered  at 
your  proposal  would  be  to  tell  a  useless  untruth,"  the 
thing  began  speciously.  "  But  how  are  we  situated, 
what  hope  of  happiness  with  our  unsettled  prospects 
and  worse  than  small  means  ?  Industry  has  doubt 
less  never  been  and  never  will  be  wanting  on  your 
part,  but  — "  and  so  to  its  dreadful  end.  It  was 
almost  base  in  its  coldness  and  mercenary  calcula 
tion.  That  phrase  about  the  "  useless  untruth  " 
implied  even  a  dubious  and  considering  morality ; 
and  the  conclusion,  "  we  must  not  entail  misery  upon 
others  as  well  as  ourselves  by  a  too  hasty  step," 
argued  a  nature  cautious  in  the  extreme. 

Yet  Mr.  Gaskell  was  too  evidently  a  man  of  the 
world,  knowing  in  his  ripe  experience  that  there 
existed  a  sufficient  number  of  such  cold  natures  to 
warrant  the  obtrusion  of  this  heart-rending  formula  ; 
and  I  doubt  not  that  these  negative  specimens  of  the 
possible  alone  restrained  my  namesake  from  going 
beyond  mere  copies  of  that  first  letter. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Potts 
pervaded  our  utmost  social  and  commercial  limits. 
And  when  the  "  Compendium  "  had  become  a  centre- 
table  ornament  in  the  homes  of  the  rich,  and  a  bulky 
object  of  awe  in  humbler  abodes,  she  went  over  the 
ground  again  with  other  volumes  calculated  to  serve 
her  double  purpose,  from  "  Dr.  Chase's  Receipt 


HOW   LITTLE   ARCADY   WAS   UPLIFTED       145 

Book  "  to  "  Picturesque  Italy,  profusely  Illustrated." 
She  also  purveyed  a  line  of  "art-pieces,"  including 
"  Wide  Awake  and  Fast  Asleep,"  "  The  Monarch  of 
the  Glen,"  "Woman  Gathering  Fagots,"  and  "Re 
treat  from  Moscow."  Also,  little  Roscoe,  out  of 
school  hours,  took  subscriptions  for  the  Youth's 
Companion. 

Yet  the  town  long  bore  it  with  a  gentle  fortitude. 
I  believe  it  was  not  until  the  following  spring  that 
murmurs  were  really  noticeable.  Naturally  they  were 
directed  against  Solon  Denney.  By  that  time  Westley 
Keyts  was  greeting  Solon  morosely,  though  without 
open  cavil ;  but  Asa  Bundy  no  longer  hesitated  to 
speak  out.  He  quoted  Scripture  to  Solon  about  the 
house  that  was  swept  and  garnished,  and  the  seven 
other  wicked  spirits  that  entered  it,  making  its  last 
state  worse  than  its  first. 

And  of  course  Solon  was  much  troubled  by 
this,  though  he  never  failed  to  rally  to  the  support 
of  the  lady  thus  maligned,  dwelling  upon  the  ad 
vantage  her  mere  presence  must  always  be  to  the 
town. 

"If  she'd  only  let  it  go  at  that — 'her  mere  pres 
ence  '  — "  rejoined  Bundy.  But  Solon  protested, 
defending  the  lady's  activities.  He  became  sensitive 
to  any  mention  of  her  name,  and  fell  to  brooding. 
He  believed  her  to  be  a  model  woman,  and  little 
Roscoe  to  be  a  model  boy. 

"  Why  don't  you  try  to  be  more  like  Roscoe  Potts  ?  " 
I  heard  him  ask  his  son  in  a  moment  of  reproof. 


146  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

My  namesake  took  it  meekly ;  but  to  me,  privately, 
he  said :  — 

"  Hunh !  I  can  lick  Ginger  Potts  with  one  hand 
tied  behind  me  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  I  asked  sternly. 

He  wriggled  somewhat  at  this,  but  at  length  con 
fided  in  me. 

"  Well,  there's  a  sell,  you  know,  Uncle  Maje.  You 
say,  '  They're  goin'  to  tear  the  schoolhouse  down,'  or 
something  like  that,  and  the  other  boy  says,  '  What 
fur  ? '  and  then  you  say,  quick  as  you  can,  '  Cat-fur  to 
make  kitten  britches  of,'  and  then  we  all  laugh  and 
yell,  and  I  caught  Ginger  Potts  on  it,  and  he  got  mad 
when  we  yelled  and  come  at  me,  and  they  pushed  him 
against  me  and  they  pushed  me  against  him,  and  they 
said  he  dassent,  and  they  said  I  dassent,  and  then  it 
happened,  only  when  I  got  him  down,  he  begun  to  say, 
'  Oh,  it's  wrong  to  fight !  I  promised  my  mother  I 
would  never  fight ! '  but  I  wouldn't  'a'  stopped  for 
that,  because  teacher  says  he's  by  far  the  brightest  boy 
in  school  —  only  just  then  Eustace  Eubanks  come 
along,  and  he  laid  down  the  meat  he  was  taking  home 
to  dinner  and  jumped  into  the  crowd  and  says  :  '  Boys, 
boys,  shame  on  you  to  act  so  like  the  brutes !  That 
isn't  any  way  to  act ! '  and  he  pulled  me  off  n  Ginger, 
and  —  and  that's  all,  but  I  had  him  licked  fair." 

"  I  shall  not  tell  your  father  of  this,"  I  said  sternly. 

"  He  has  enough  to  worry  him,"  said  my  name 
sake. 

"  Exactly,"  I  said.     "  But  I  advise  you  to  cultivate 


HOW   LITTLE   ARCADY  WAS   UPLIFTED       147 

a  friendly  feeling  for  Roscoe  Potts.  Boys  should  not 
fight." 

"  Well  —  now  —  I  would  —  but  he's  a  regular 
teacher's  pet." 

And  remembering  the  letter  that  was  not  sent  to 
Sam  Murdock,  —  that  the  teacher  was  my  namesake's 
love,  —  I  perceived  that  this  breach  was  not  to  be 
healed. 


CHAPTER   XII 

TROUBLED    WATERS    ARE    STILLED 

IT  was  spring  again,  a  Sunday  in  early  May,  warm, 
humid,  scented  with  blossoms  that  were  bodied  souls 
of  the  laughing  air.  They  starred  the  bank  that  fell 
away  from  my  porch  to  the  clear-watered  river,  and 
they  sang  of  the  young  spirit  that  lives  in  this  old 
earth  so  deceptively,  defacing  it  with  false  scars  of 
age,  and  craftily  permitting  us  to  count  years  by  the 
thousand,  yet  remaining  always  as  fresh  in  itself  as 
on  the  primal  morning  when  the  world  was  found 
good  by  that  ill-fated  but  joyous  first  pair  of  lovers. 
I  marvel  that  so  many  are  fooled  by  the  trick ;  how 
so  few  of  us  detect  that  the  soul  of  it  all  is  ageless  — 
has  never  even  wearied.  The  blossoms  told  this 
secret  now  in  quiet  triumph  over  the  denials  of 
ancient  oaks  that  towered  above  them  and  murmured 
solemn  falsities  in  their  tops  about  the  incredible  old- 
ness  of  things. 

There  was  the  star-shaped  bloodroot,  with  its  ten 
or  a  dozen  petals  of  waxen  white  set  with  jewel-like 
precision  about  a  centre  of  dead  gold.  There  was  the 
less  formal  phlox  of  a  pinkish  purple;  deer's-tongue, 
white  and  yellow ;  frail  anemones,  both  pink  and 

148 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED  149 

white ;  small  but  stately  violets,  and  the  wake-robin 
with  its  wine-red  centre  among  long  green  leaves. 
There  was  a  dogwood  in  the  act  of  unfolding  its 
little  green  tents  that  would  presently  be  snow-white, 
and  a  plum  tree  ruffled  with  tiny  flowers  of  a  honied 
fragrance. 

With  a  fine  Japanese  restraint,  Clem  had  placed  a 
single  bough  of  these  in  a  dull-colored  vase  on  my 
out-of-doors  breakfast  table. 

All  these  were  to  say  that  the  soul  of  the  world  is 
ageless,  and  that  time  is  but  a  cheap  device  to  meas 
ure  our  infirmities.  Above,  the  trees  were  hinting 
that  life  might  still  be  lived  acceptably,  as  in  Eden 
days ;  though  they  seemed  to  suspect  that  the  stage 
of  it  to  which  they  were  amazedly  awakening  must 
be  at  least  the  autumn,  and  timidly  clothed  them 
selves  accordingly.  The  elm,  the  first  big  tree  to  stir 
in  its  sleep,  showed  tiny,  curled  leaflets  of  a  doubting, 
yellowish  green ;  and  the  later  moving  oaks  were 
frankly  sceptical,  one  glowing  faintly  brown  and 
crimson,  another  silvery  gray  and  pink.  They  would 
need  at  least  ten  more  days  to  convince  them  into 
downright  summer  greenery,  even  though  slender- 
throated  doves  already  mated  in  their  tops  with  a 
perfect  confidence. 

It  was  an  early  morning  hour,  when  it  was  easy 
to  believe  in  the  perfect  fitness  of  Little  Arcady's 
name ;  an  hour  in  a  time  when  the  Potts-troubled 
waters  had  been  mercifully  stilled  by  the  hand  of 
God ;  an  hour  when  the  spirit  of  each  Little  Arcadian 


150  THE    BOSS    OF    LITTLE    ARCADY 

might  share  to  its  own  fulness  in  the  large  serenity 
of  the  ageless  world-soul. 

I  recalled  Mrs.  Potts's  paper  on  "  The  Lesson  of 
Greek  Art,"  which  had  enriched  two  columns  of  the 
Argus  after  its  reading  to  the  ladies  of  the  Literary 
and  Home  Study  Club.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
Greeks  must  have  divined  this  important  secret  of 
the  vegetable  world  —  the  secret  of  ageless  time  — 
and  that  therein  lay  the  charm  of  them  ;  that  spirit 
of  ever  freshening  joy  which  they  chiselled  and  sang 
into  tangible  grace  for  us  of  a  later  and  heavier  age. 

At  the  moment  I  was  on  the  porch,  waiting  for  my 
coffee,  and  my  thought  seemed  to  be  shared  by  Jim, 
my  bony  young  setter,  who,  being  but  a  scant  year 
old,  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  lesson  of  Greek  art. 
Over  the  grassy  stretch  before  the  porch  he  chased 
robins  tirelessly,  though  with  indifferent  success.  His 
was  a  spirit  truly  Greek.  I  knew  it  by  reason  of  his 
inexhaustible  enthusiasm  for  this  present  sport  after 
a  year's  proving  that  chased  birds  will  rise  strangely 
but  expertly  into  air  that  no  dog  can  climb  by  any 
device  of  whining,  leaping,  or  straining. 

Living  on  into  the  Renaissance,  I  saw  that  Jim 
would  be  taught  the  grievous  thing  called  wisdom  — 
would  learn  his  limitations  and  to  form  habits  tamely 
contrary  to  his  natural  Greek  likings.  Then  would 
he  honorably  neglect  rabbits  and  all  fur,  cease  point 
ing  droves  of  pigs,  and  quit  the  silly  chase  of  robins. 
Under  check-cord  and  spike-collar  he  would  become 
a  fast  and  stylish  dog,  clean-cut  in  his  bird  work, 


TROUBLED    WATERS   ARE   STILLED  151 

perhaps  a  field-trial  winner.  He  would  learn  to 
take  reproof  amiably,  to  "  heel "  at  a  word,  to 
respect  the  whistle  at  any  distance,  to  be  steady 
to  shot  and  wing,  to  retrieve  promptly  from  land  or 
water,  and  never  to  bolt  or  range  beyond  control 
or  be  guilty  of  false  pointing. 

I  knew  that  coercion,  steadily  and  tactfully  applied, 
would  thus  educate  him,  for  was  he  not  of  champion 
ancestry,  wearing  his  pedigree  in  his  looks,  with  the 
narrow  shoulders  so  desirable  and  so  rarely  found, 
with  just  the  right  number  of  hairs  at  the  end  of  his 
tail,  the  forelegs  properly  feathered,  the  feet  and 
ankles  strong,  the  right  amount  of  leather  in  his 
ear  to  the  fraction  of  an  inch,  —  a  dog,  in  short,  of 
beauty,  style,  speed,  nose,  and  brains  ? 

But  in  this  full  moment  of  a  glad  morning  I  re 
solved  that  Jim  should  never  know  the  Renaissance ; 
he  should  never  emerge  from  what  Mrs.  Potts  had 
gracefully  described  as  "the  golden  age  of  Pericles." 

To  the  end  of  his  days  he  should  be  blithely, 
naively  Greek ;  a  dog  of  wretched  field  manners, 
pointing  cattle  and  quail  impartially,  shamefully  gun- 
shy,  inconsequent,  volatile,  ignorant,  forever  paganly 
joyous  without  due  cause.  For  him  I  should  do 
what  no  one  had  been  able  to  do  for  me  —  detain  him 
in  that  "world  of  fine  fabling"  where  everything  is 
true  that  ought  to  be ;  where  the  earth  is  a  running 
course,  fascinating  in  its  surprises  of  open  road  and 
tangled  hedgerow ;  where  mere  indiscriminate  smell 
ing  is  keenest  ecstasy ;  and  where  the  fact  that  robins 


I  52  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

have  eluded  one's  fleetest  rush  to-day,  by  an  amazing 
and  unfair  trick  of  levitation,  is  not  the  slightest 
promise  that  they  can  escape  our  interested  mouthing 
on  the  morrow. 

Doubtless  he  would  be  a  remarkably  foolish  dog 
in  his  old  age ;  but  I,  growing  old  beside  him,  would 
learn  wisely  foolish  things  from  his  excellent  folly. 
I  knew  we  should  both  be  happier  for  it ;  knew  it 
was  best  for  us  both  to  prove  that  my  thin  white 
friend  had  been  born  chiefly  to  display  the  acute  ele 
gance  of  his  bones  and  the  beauty  of  hopeful  effort. 

It  was  this  last  that  kept  him  thin.  When  I  took 
to  the  road,  he  travelled  five  miles  to  my  every  one, 
circling  me  widely,  ranging  far  over  the  hills  in  mad 
dashes,  or  running  straight  and  swiftly  on  the  road, 
vanishing  in  a  white  fog  of  dust.  Walking  slowly  to 
avoid  this,  I  would  only  meet  him  emerging  from  a 
fresh  cloud  of  it  with  a  glad  tongue  thrown  out  to  the 
breeze.  Again,  there  were  desperate  plunges  into 
wayside  underbrush  or  down  steep  ravines,  whence  I 
would  hear  rapid  splashing  through  a  hidden  stream 
and  short,  plaintive  cries  to  tell  that  that  wonderful, 
unseen  wood-presence  of  a  thousand  provoking  scents 
had  once  more  cunningly  evaded  him. 

Also  did  he  love  to  swim  stoutly  across  a  field  of 
growing  wheat,  his  head  alone  showing  above  the 
green  waves.  And  if  the  wheat  were  tall,  he  still 
braved  it — lost  to  sight  at  the  bottom.  Then  one 
might  observe  the  mystery  of  a  furrow  ploughing  itself 
swiftly  across  the  billows  without  visible  agency. 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED  153 

When  I  do  not  walk,  to  give  countenance  to  his 
running,  he  has  a  game  of  his  own.  He  plays  it 
with  an  ancient  fur  cap  that  he  keeps  conveniently 
stored.  The  cap  represents  a  prey  of  considerable 
dignity  which  must  be  sprung  upon  and  shaken  again 
and  again  until  it  is  finally  disabled.  Then  it  is  to  be 
seized  by  implacable  jaws  and  swiftly  run  with  about 
the  yard  in  a  feverish  pretence  that  enemies  wish  to 
ravish  it  from  its  captor.  Any  chance  observer  is 
implored  to  humor  this  pretence,  and  upon  his  com 
pliance  he  is  fled  from  madly,  or  perhaps  turned 
upon  and  growled  at  most  directly,  if  he  show  signs 
of  losing  interest  in  the  game. 

This  ceaseless  motion,  with  its  attendant  nervous 
strains,  has  prevented  any  accumulation  of  flesh,  and 
explains  the  name  of  Slim  Jim  affixed  to  him  by  my 
namesake. 

Jim  consented  now  to  rest  for  a  moment  at  my  feet, 
though  at  a  loss  to  know  how  I  could  be  calm  amid 
so  many  exciting  smells.  I  promised  him  as  he  lay 
there  that  he  should  never  be  compelled  to  learn  any 
but  the  fewest  facts  necessary  to  make  him  as  harm 
less  as  he  was  happy ;  chiefly  not  to  bark  at  old 
ladies  and  babies,  no  matter  how  threatening  their 
aspect,  as  they  passed  our  house.  A  few  things  he 
had  already  learned  —  to  avoid  fences  of  the  barbed 
wire,  to  respect  the  big  cat  from  across  the  way  who 
sometimes  called  and  treated  him  with  watchful  dis 
dain,  and  not  to  chew  a  baby  robin  if  by  any  chance 
he  caught  one.  This  last  had  been  a  hard  lesson,  his 


154  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

first  contact  with  a  problem  only  a  few  days  younger 
than  Eden  itself.  It  came  to  his  understanding, 
however,  that  if  you  mouth  a  helpless  baby  robin,  a 
hand  or  a  stick  falls  upon  you  hurtfully,  even  if  you 
evade  it  for  the  moment  and  seclude  yourself  under  a 
porch  until  it  would  seem  that  so  trifling  an  occurrence 
must  have  been  utterly  forgotten.  This  was  the  one 
big  sin  —  sin,  to  the  best  of  our  knowledge,  being 
obedience  to  any  natural  desire,  the  satisfaction  of 
which  is  unaccountably  followed  by  pain. 

I  told  him  this  would  probably  be  all  that  he  need 
ever  know;  and  he  looked  up  at  me  in  a  fashion  he 
has,  the  silky  brown  ears  falling  either  side  of  the 
white  face.  It  is  a  look  of  languishing,  melting 
adoration,  and  if  I  face  him  steadily,  he  must  always 
turn  away  as  if  to  avoid  being  overcome  —  as  if  the 
sight  of  beauty  so  great  as  mine  could  be  borne  full 
in  the  eyes  only  for  the  briefest  of  moments. 

But  Clem  came  now,  ranging  my  breakfast  dishes 
about  the  bowl  of  plum  flowers,  and  I  approached  the 
table  with  all  the  ardor  he  could  have  wished  at  his 
softly  spoken,  "  Yo'  is  suhved,  Mahstah  Majah." 

The  sight  of  Clem,  however,  inevitably  suggests 
the  person  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  his  sustaining 
ministrations.  Potts  had  been  a  necessary  instrument 
in  one  of  those  complications  which  the  gods  devise 
among  us  human  ephemera  for  their  mild  amusement 
on  a  day  of  ennui.  And  Potts,  having  served  his 
purpose,  had  been  neatly  removed.  I  have  said  that 
the  Potts-troubled  waters  of  Little  Arcady  were  for 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED          155 

the  moment  stilled.  By  the  hands  of  the  gods  had 
they  been  mercifully  stilled  so  that  not  for  a  month 
had  any  citizen  been  asked  to  subscribe  for  any 
improving  book  or  patented  device  of  culture. 

A  month  before,  in  a  far-off  place,  J.  Rodney  Potts 
had  suffered  extinction  through  the  apparently  casual 
agency  of  a  moving  railway  train,  the  intervention  of 
the  gods  in  all  such  matters  being  discreetly  veiled  so 
that  the  denser  of  us  shall  suspect  nothing  but  that 
they  were  the  merest  of  accidents. 

One  could  only  surmise  that  the  widow  viewed 
this  happening  with  a  kind  of  trustful  resignation, 
sweetened  perhaps  by  certain  ancient  memories 
attuned  to  a  gentle  melancholy.  I  know  that  she 
placed  on  view  in  her  parlor  for  the  first  time  a 
crayon  portrait  of  Potts  in  his  early  manhood,  one 
made  ere  life  had  broken  so  many  of  its  promises  to 
him,  the  portrait  of  one  who  might  conceivably  have 
enchained  the  fancy  of  even  a  superior  woman.  But 
the  widow  was  not  publicly  anguished.  She  donned 
a  gown  and  bonnet  of  black  in  testimony  of  her 
bereavement,  but  there  was  no  unnecessary  flaunt  of 
crape  in  her  decently  symbolic  garb.  As  Aunt  Delia 
McCormick  phrased  it,  she  was  not  in  "  heavy  mourn 
ing,"  -  —  merely  "  in  light  distress." 

The  town  was  content  to  let  it  go  at  that,  especially 
after  the  adjustment  of  certain  formalities  which 
enabled  the  widow  for  a  time  to  suspend  her  work  of 
ministering  to  its  higher  wants. 

The  railway  company  had  at  first,  it  appeared,  been 


156  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

disposed  to  view  its  removal  of  Potts  very  lightly 
indeed  ;  not  only  because  of  his  unimposing  appear 
ance,  but  by  reason  of  his  well-attested  mental  con 
dition  at  the  time  of  the  occurrence  —  a  condition 
clearly  self-induced,  and  one  that  placed  him  beyond 
those  measures  of  safety  which  a  common  carrier  is 
obliged  to  exercise  in  behalf  of  its  patrons. 

But  a  package  of  letters  had  been  discovered 
among  the  meagre  belongings  of  the  unfortunate  man, 
and  these  had  placed  the  matter  in  a  very  different 
light.  They  showed  conclusively  that  the  victim  had 
been  of  importance,  a  citizen  of  rare  values  in  any 
community  that  he  might  choose  to  favor  with  his 
presence. 

Truman  Baird  settled  the  case  and,  after  these 
letters  had  been  appraised  by  the  corporation's  attor 
ney,  he  succeeded  in  extorting  the  sum  of  eight 
hundred  dollars  from  the  railway  as  recompense  to 
the  widow  for  the  loss  of  her  husband's  services.  I 
considered  that  the  company  would  have  given  up  at 
least  five  hundred  more  to  avoid  being  sued  for  the 
death  of  a  man  who  had  been  able  to  evoke  those 
letters ;  but  I  did  not  say  so,  for  the  case  was  Truman's 
and  eight  hundred  dollars  were  many.  Westley 
Keyts  thought  they  were,  indeed,  a  great  many,  and 
outrageously  excessive  as  a  cold  money  valuation  of 
Potts.  "  She  only  got  eight  hundred  dollars,  but 
there's  them  that  thinks  she  skinned  the  company  at 
that !  "  said  Westley. 

But  there  was  no  disposition  to  begrudge  the  widow 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED  157 

a  single  dollar  of  this  modest  sum.  A  jury  of  Little 
Arcadians  would  have  multiplied  it  tenfold  without 
a  blush ;  for,  while  that  little  hoard  endured,  any 
citizen,  however  public  spirited,  could  flavor  with  a 
certain  grace  his  refusal  to  subscribe  for  a  book. 

To  Solon  Denney  the  thing  came  as  a  deep  and 
divine  relief.  In  the  satisfaction  induced  by  it,  he 
penned  an  obituary  of  Potts  in  which  he  employed 
the  phrase  "  grim  messenger  of  death  "  very  cleverly 
indeed.  For  matters  had  been  going  from  bad  to 
worse.  Murmurs  at  the  demands  of  Mrs.  Potts  — 
likened  by  Asa  Bundy  to  a  daughter  of  the  horse 
leech  —  had  become  passionately  loud  as  our  masses 
toiled  expensively  up  that  Potts-defined  path  of  en 
lightenment.  The  old  sneer  at  Solon's  Boss-ship  was 
again  to  be  observed  on  every  hand,  that  attitude  of 
doubting  ridicule,  half-playful,  half-contemptuous, 
which  your  public  man  finds  more  dangerous  to  his 
influence  than  downright  hostility  would  be. 

But  the  murmurs  were  again  stilled,  and  Solon 
might  breathe  the  peace  of  a  golden  age  when  as  yet 
no  Potts,  male  or  female,  had  come  unto  us. 

It  was  not  felt  at  all  that  Solon's  genius  for  the 
discretion  of  public  affairs  had  availed  him  in  this 
latest  crisis.  But  the  benefit  was  substantial,  none 
the  less,  and  the  columns  of  the  Argus  were  again 
buoyant  as  of  yore.  It  was  at  this  time,  I  remember, 
that  the  Argus  first  spoke  of  our  town  as  "  a  gem  at 
beauty's  throat,"  and,  touching  the  rare  enterprise  of 
our  citizens,  declared  that,  "  If  you  put  a  Slocum 


158  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

County  man  astride  a  streak  of  lightning,  he'd  call  for 
a  pair  of  spurs." 

For  myself,  I  frankly  mourned  Potts.  For  I  saw 
now  that  he  had  been  truly  and  finely  of  that  Greek 
spirit  —  one  accepting  gifts  from  the  gods  with  a  joy 
ous  young  faith  in  their  continuance.  I  felt  that  he 
had  divined  more  of  the  lesson  of  Greek  art  than  his 
one-time  love  could  write  down  in  papers  unending. 
I  should  not  have  wished  him  back  in  Little  Arcady, 
but  I  did  breathe  a  prayer  that  he  might  in  some 
early  Greek  elysium  be  indeed  "  Potts  forever." 
Might  it  not  be  ?  Had  not  that  other  paper  on  "  the 
message  of  Emerson"  hinted  of  "compensation"  in 
a  jargon  that  sounded  authoritative  ? 

And  now,  as  I  breakfasted,  my  attention  was  invited 
anew  to  that  fateful,  never  ending  extension  of  the 
Potts-made  ripples  in  our  little  pool.  I  was  threat 
ened  with  the  loss  of  my  domestic  stay ;  again  might 
I  be  forced  to  the  City  Hotel's  refectory  of  a  thou 
sand  blended  smells  and  spotty  table-linen ;  or  even 
to  irksome  adventure  at  the  board  of  the  self-lauded 
Budd. 

There  was  selfish  wonder  in  my  heart  as  I  listened 
to  Clem,  who,  now  that  my  second  cup  of  coffee 
competed  with  the  May  blossoms,  stood  by  to  tell  me 
of  his  worldly  advancement  and  the  nearing  of  a  time 
when  Miss  Caroline  should  come  among  us  to  be 
independent. 

His  stubborn  industry  had  counted.  The  vegetable 
and  melon  crop  of  the  year  before  had  been  abundant 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED          159 

and  well  sold,  despite  sundry  raids  upon  the  latter  by 
nameless  boys,  who,  he  assured  me,  "  hain't  had  no 
raght  raisin'."  And  he  had  further  swelled  that 
hoard  of  "  reglah  gole  money  "  in  Bundy's  bank  by 
his  performances  of  house-cleaning,  catering,  and  his 
work  as  janitor;  not  a  little,  too,  by  sales  of  the  fish 
he  caught.  He  was  believed  to  possess  a  secret 
charm  that  made  his  fish-bait  irresistible.  Certainly 
his  fortune  in  this  matter  was  superior  to  that  of  any 
other  frequenter  of  the  bass  nooks  below  the  dam. 

And  now  he  had  waxed  so  heavy  of  purse  that  a 
woman  could  come  between  us,  —  a  selfish  woman,  I 
made  no  doubt,  pampered  survival  of  a  pernicious 
and  now  happily  destroyed  system,  who  would  not 
only  unsettle  my  domestic  tranquillity,  but  would,  in 
all  likelihood,  fetch  another  alien  ferment  into  our 
already  sorely  tried  existence  as  a  town  needing  ele 
vation.  It  seemed,  indeed,  that  we  were  never  to  be 
done  with  these  consequences. 

Separated  from  my  house  by  a  stretch  of  weedy 
lawn  was  a  shambling  structure  built  years  before 
by  one  Azariah  Prouse,  who  believed  among  other 
strange  matters  that  the  earth  is  flat  and  that  houses 
are  built  higher  than  one  story  only  at  great  peril, 
because  of  the  earth's  proneness  to  tip  if  overbalanced. 
Prouse  had  compromised  with  this  belief,  however, 
and  made  his  house  a  story  and  a  half  high,  in  what 
I  conceive  to  have  been  a  dare-devil  spirit.  The 
reckless  upper  rooms  were  thus  cut  off  untimely  by 
ceijings  of  sudden  slope,  and  might  not  be  walked 


160  THE   BOSS  OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

in  uprightly  save  by  persons  of  an  inconsiderable 
stature. 

In  a  fulness  of  years  Azariah  had  died  and  been 
chested,  like  Joseph  of  old,  his  soul  to  be  gathered, 
as  he  believed,  to  another  horizontal  plane,  exalted 
far  above  this,  as  would  befit  an  abode  for  spirits  of 
the  departed  good. 

His  earthly  home,  now  long  vacant,  had  been 
rented  by  Clem  for  a  monthly  sum  not  particularly 
cheap  in  view  of  its  surprising  limitations  above 
stairs.  It  was  of  this  new  home  that  he  chiefly 
talked  to  me,  of  the  persistence  required  to  have  it 
newly  painted  by  the  inheriting  Prouse,  and  repairs 
made  to  doors,  windows,  and  the  blinds  that  hung 
awry  from  them. 

"An"  Ah  been  cleanin'  —  yes,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah 
— fum  celleh  to  gahet.  Them  floahs  do  shine  an'  them 
windows  is  jes'  so  clean  they  look  lahk  they  ain't 
theah  at  all.  Miss  Cahline  an'  Little  Miss,  they 
reside  on  th'  lowah  floah,  an'  Ah  tek  mahse'f  up  to 
that  theh  gahet.  Yes,  seh,  Ah  haf  to  scrooge  aw 
Ah  git  mah  haid  knocked  off,  but  Ah  reckon  Ah 
sho'  will  luhn  to  remembeh  in  Gawd's  own  time. 
An'  they's  a  tehible  grand  hen-house.  Ah'm  go'n' 
a'  raise  a  hund'ed  thousan'  yellow-laiged  pullets ;  an' 
theh's  a  staihway  down  to  th'  watah  whah  Ah  kin 
tie  up  mah  ole  catfish  boat,  an'  a  monst'ous  big 
gyahden  whah  Ah  kin  keep  mah  fie'ce  look  on  them 
mush  an'  watah  melons.  Ah  don'  want  t'  git  into  any 
mo'  alterations  with  them  boys,  but  Ah  suttinly  will 


TROUBLED   WATERS   ARE   STILLED  i6l 

weah  'em  out  if  they  don't  mind  theah  cautions.  Yes, 
seh,  —  we  all  go'n'  a'  have  a  raght  tolable  home- 
place." 

Then  my  grievance  prompted  me. 

"Yes,  and  who's  going  to  get  my  breakfast  and 
dinner  for  me,  then  ?  "  I  asked  with  a  dark  look,  but 
he  beamed  upon  me  placatingly. 

"  Oh,  Ah's  still  go'n'  a'  do  fo  yo',  Mahstah  Majah. 
Ah  steddied  huh  all  out  twell  she's  plumb  systemous. 
Miss  Cahline  sh'  ain't  wantin'  huh  breakfus'  twell 
yo's  done,  an'  she'll  tek  huh  dinneh  uhliah.  Ah 
manage,  Mahstah  Majah.  Ah  mek  all  mah  reddi- 
ments,  yes,  seh  —  yo's  go'n'  a'  be  jes'  lahk  mah  own 
folks." 

I  affected  to  be  made  more  cheerful  by  this,  but  I 
knew  that  no  man  can  serve  two  masters,  especially 
when  he  is  the  "  pussenal  propity "  of  one  ;  but  I 
forbore  to  warn  the  deluded  African  of  the  tribula 
tions  ahead  of  him. 


The  Book   of 
MISS   CAROLINE 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A   CATASTROPHE    IN    FURNITURE 

"Miss  CAHLINE  comin'  this  yeh  time  a'  yeah  so's 
't'll  seem  mo'  soft  an'  homelike.  Ah  gaiss  she  go'n' 
a'  sprighten  raght  up  when  she  see  th"  summeh  time 
all  pleasant." 

Thus  Clem  said  to  me  a  few  weeks  later,  and  I  praised 
his  thoughtfulness.  But  I  nursed  misgivings  both  for 
Miss  Caroline  and  for  Little  Arcady.  How  would 
they  take  each  other  ?  I  conceived  Miss  Caroline  to 
be  a  formidable  person  whom  Little  Miss  resembled, 
Clem  said,  "as  aigs  look  lahk  aigs."  No  further 
detail  could  I  elicit  from  him  save  that  his  Mistress 
was  "  not  fleshily  inclahned,"  and  that  Little  Miss  was 
"  sweetah'n  honey  on  a  rag  !  " 

They  would  find  our  summer  acceptable,  even  after 
a  Southern  summer  heavy-sweet  with  magnolia  and 
jasmine,  honeysuckle  and  mimosa;  with  spirea  and 
bridal-wreath  and  white-blossomed  sloe  trees.  And 
the  house  as  put  to  rights  by  Clem  would  be  found 
at  least  endurable.  It  had  not  the  solid  grace  nor 
the  columned  front  of  the  houses  I  had  somewhat 
hurriedly  admired  in  the  Southland  some  years  be 
fore,  but  its  lower  rooms  were  wide,  its  windows 

165 


166  THE    BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

abundant,  and  outwardly  it  had  escaped  the  blight 
of  the  scroll  saw. 

But  the  civilization  of  Little  Arcady  would  be  alien 
to  the  newcomers,  and  I  was  apprehensive  that  it 
would  also  be  difficult. 

Further,  I  suspected  that  J.  R.  C.  Tuckerman, 
with  all  his  genius  for  hard  work,  lacked  the  admin 
istrative  gifts  of  a  true  financier.  He  said  a  hundred 
thousand  pullets  when  he  should  have  said  twenty- 
five,  and  he  seemed  to  consider  his  banked  hoard  of 
gold  money  to  be  inexhaustible  when  it  was  in  fact 
merely  a  sum  slightly  greater  than  he  was  wont  to 
juggle  with  in  his  darkened  mind. 

I  was  not  surprised,  therefore,  when  I  found  him 
rather  dejectedly  sunk  in  figures  one  afternoon  about 
a  week  after  Miss  Caroline's  "  home-fixin's  "  had  begun 
to  arrive. 

These  were  all  about  him  at  the  front  door,  in  the 
hall,  and  extending  far  into  the  rooms,  a  truly  de 
pressing  chaos  of  packing  boxes,  swathed  tables, 
chairs,  bureaus,  and  barrels  of  china.  Nor  was  this 
all ;  for  even  as  I  loitered  up  to  the  door  the  dray  of 
Sam  Murdock  halted  in  front  with  another  huge 
load. 

Clem  raised  his  head  from  a  sheet  of  sprawled 
figures  and  regarded  this  fresh  trouble  with  something 
like  consternation.  In  one  hand  he  fluttered  a  packet 
of  receipted  freight  bills,  and  he  spoke  as  one  in  an 
evil  dream. 

"  Yes,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  it  suttinly  do  seem  lahk 


A   CATASTROPHE   IN   FURNITURE  167 

them  railroad  genamen  would  git  monst'ous  rich 
a-runnin'  them  freight  trains  about  th'  kentry  th'  way 
lahk  they  do.  Ah  allus  think  them  ole  freight  cyahs 
look  maghty  cheap  an'  common  a-rattlin'  around,  but 
Ah  teks  mah  ole  hat  off  to  um  yehafteh.  Yes,  seh, 
Ah  lays  Ah  will  !  Them  engineahs  an'  fiahmen  an' 
them  Gunnels  with  gole  on  they  hats,  Ah  gaiss  they 
go'n'  a'  have  all  th'  money  in  th'  world  maghty 
shawtly.  They  looks  highly  awdinahy  an'  unpeten- 
tious,  but  they  suttinly  p'duces  th'  revenue.  Ah 
sho'ly  go'n'  a'  repoht  mahse'f  to  um  ve'y  honably  when 
they  pass  me  by  yehafteh.  Yo'  don't  gaiss  they  made 
a  errah,  Mahstah  Majah  ?  " 

He  searched  my  face  with  a  sudden  hope :  — 

"  Yo'  don't  reckon  they  git  a  idy  them  funichas  an' 
home-fixin's  ain't  been  paid  foh  in  th'  fust  place  ?  " 

I  took  the  packet  from  his  hands  and  glanced  over 
it. 

"  No,  these  seem  to  be  all  right,  Clem  —  only  freight 
is  charged  for.  But  you  must  remember  Virginia  is 
a  long  way  off." 

"Yes,  seh  —  it  ain't  neveh  raghtly  come  upon  me 
befoh." 

"  And  freights  are  high,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes,  seh,  th'  freight  p'fession  does  look  lahk  it  ort 
a'  be  maghty  gainful.  Ah  gaiss  them  engineahs  go'n' 
a'  do  raght  well  in  it,  with  evabody  movin'  'round 
considable." 

"  Well,  how  many  more  loads  do  you  expect?  " 

"  Well,  seh,  Ah  don't  raghtly  know.     Ah  tell  that 


1 68  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

drivah  yestaday  Ah  already  got  a  gret  abundance  to 
mek  evabody  comf'table,  an'  a  little  bit  oveh,  but  he 
jes'  sais,  '  Oh,  tha's  all  raght,'  an'  so  fothe,  an'  he  still 
is  a-bringiri  it.  Lohks  ve'y  strongly  lahk  he  ain't  go'n' 
a'  stop  at  mak  implications.  Mahstah  Majah,  maght 
happen  lahk  he'd  ack  mo'  reasonin'  ef  yo'  was  t'  have 
a  good  long  talk  with  him." 

"  Oh,  he  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  it.  He  only 
brings  what  your  Miss  Caroline  has  shipped.  She 
shouldn't  have  sent  so  much,  that's  all." 

He  took  the  troubling  bills  again. 

"  Yo'  sounds  raght,  Mahstah  Majah  —  you  suttinly 
do  sound  raght !  Ah  gaiss  Ah  got  a'  raise  ten  hund'ed 
thousan'  pulletts  an  mo'." 

For  three  more  days  the  juggernaut  of  Sam  Mur- 
dock's  dray  hauled  heavy  furniture  over  the  prostrate 
spirit  of  Clem.  Faster  than  he  could  unpack  the 
stuff  was  it  unpiled  at  his  door.  And  it  was  poor 
stuff,  moreover,  in  the  opinion  of  Little  Arcady. 
Clem's  history  was  known,  of  course,  and  during  these 
busy  days  the  town  made  it  a  point  to  pass  his  door 
in  friendly  curiosity  about  the  belongings  of  his 
mistress.  When  these  could  not  be  satisfactorily 
appraised  from  the  yard,  they  sauntered  up  to  the 
porch  and  surveyed  Clem  in  the  front  room  at  his 
work  of  unpacking  and  cleaning.  Often,  indeed, 
some  kindly  disposed  observer  with  time  to  spare 
would  lend  a  hand  in  freeing  some  heavy  bit  of  ma 
hogany  from  its  crate  or  wrappings. 

The  public  opinion,  thus  advantageously  formed, 


A  CATASTROPHE  IN  FURNITURE     169 

was  for  once  unanimous.  The  house  overflowed  with 
worthless  and  unbeautiful  junk.  To  Little  Arcady 
this  was  a  grievous  disappointment.  It  had  expected 
elegance,  for  Clem  had  been  wont  to  enlarge  upon  the 
splendors  of  his  former  home.  When  it  was  finally 
known  that  the  long-vaunted  furnishings  were  coming, 
the  town  had  prepared  to  be  dazzled  by  sets  of  black 
walnut,  ornate  with  gilt  lines,  by  patent  rockers  done 
in  plush,  by  fashionable  sofas,  gay  with  upholstery  of 
flowered  ingrain,  by  bedroom  sets  of  ash,  stencilled 
adroitly  with  pink-and-blue  flowers,  or  set  with 
veneered  panels  of  burl ;  by  writing-desks  of  maple 
and  music-stands  of  cherry  with  many  spindles  and 
frettings,  by  sideboards  of  finest  new  oak  with  brass 
handles  and  mirrors  in  the  backs. 

The  town  had  anticipated,  in  short,  up  to  its  own 
high  and  difficult  standards.  And  along  had  come 
a  ruck  of  stuff  that  was  dark  and  dingy  and  old- 
fashioned  ;  awkward  articles  with  a  vast  dull  expanse 
of  mahogany,  ending  in  clumsy  claw  feet ;  spindle- 
legged  tables  inlaid  with  white  wood  ;  old-fashioned 
mirrors  in  scarred  gilt  frames ;  awkward-looking  high 
boys  and  the  plainest  of  sofas  and  lounges.  The 
chief  sideboard  boasted  not  the  tiniest  bit  of  brass ; 
even  the  handles  were  of  cheap  glass,  and  Clem  had 
set  candle-sticks  upon  it  that  were  nothing  but  pewter. 

Where  Little  Arcady  had  looked  for  the  best 
Brussels  carpets,  there  came  only  dull-colored 
rugs  of  a  most  aged  and  depressing  lack  of  gayety. 
As  for  silver,  we  knew  the  worst  when  Aunt  Delia 


I/O  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

McCormick  declared,  "  They  haven't  even  a  swinging 
ice-pitcher  —  nothing  but  thin  battered  old  stuff  that 
was  made  in  the  year  one  !  " 

Aunt  Delia  had  quite  the  newest  and  most  fashion 
able  furniture  in  town ;  her  parlor  was  a  feast  of 
color  for  any  eye,  and  her  fine  hardwood  sideboard 
alone  had  cost  twenty-two  dollars,  so  she  spoke  as  one 
having  authority. 

By  the  time  that  Clem's  ancient  treasures  were  all 
unpacked,  Little  Arcady  felt  a  genuine  if  patronizing 
sympathy  for  his  mistress.  If  that  were  the  boasted 
elegance  of  the  ante-bellum  South,  then  Tradition  had 
reported  falsely.  No  plush  rockers  of  the  newest 
patent ;  no  chenille  curtains ;  no  art  chromos ;  no 
hat-racks,  not  even  an  imitation  bronze  mantle  clock 
guarded  by  its  mailed  warrior.  Such  clocks  as  there 
were  left  only  honest  distress  in  the  mind  of  the  be 
holder,  —  tall,  outlandish  old  things  in  wooden  cases. 

It  was  believed  that  .Clem  had  wasted  money  in 
paying  freight  on  this  stuff.  Certainly  no  one  in 
Little  Arcady  would  have  paid  those  bills  to  pos 
sess  the  furniture.  As  to  the  folly  of  those  who 
had  originally  purchased  it,  the  town  was  likewise 
a  unit. 

If  Clem  was  made  aware  of  this  public  sentiment, 
he  still  did  not  waver  in  his  loyalty  to  the  old  pieces. 
Day  after  day  he  unpacked  and  dusted  and  polished 
them  with  loving  devotion.  They  spoke  to  him  of 
other  days,  and  when  he  was  quite  sure  that  the  last 
freight  bill  had  been  paid,  he  seemed  really  to  enjoy 


A  CATASTROPHE   IN   FURNITURE  171 

them.  The  unexpected  drain  had  reduced  his  savings 
to  a  pittance,  but  were  not  the  pullets  which  he  could 
raise  absolutely  without  number  ? 

It  was  true  that  Miss  Caroline  would  have  to  come 
alone  now,  leaving  Little  Miss  still  to  teach  in  the 
school  at  Baltimore  until  a  day  of  renewed  surplus. 
This  much  Clem  confided  to  me  in  sorrow.  I  sym 
pathized  with  him,  truly,  but  I  felt  it  was  a  fortunate 
circumstance.  I  thought  that  one  of  the  ladies  at 
a  time  would  be  as  much  as  Little  Arcady  could 
assimilate. 

Slowly  the  house  grew  into  a  home  awaiting  its 
mistress,  a  home  whose  furnished  rooms  overflowed 
into  others  not  furnished  but  merely  crowded. 

I  foresaw,  not  without  a  certain  wicked  cheerfulness, 
that,  even  after  the  coming  of  Miss  Caroline,  Clem 
would  be  forced  to  pander  to  my  breakfast  appetites 
for  the  slight  betterment  it  made  in  his  fortunes,  even 
must  this  be  done  surreptitiously.  And  at  least  one 
dinner  was  secured  to  me  beyond  the  coming  of  this 
mistress ;  for  Clem  had  conveyed  to  me,  with  appro 
priate  ceremony,  an  invitation,  which  I  promptly 
accepted,  to  dine  with  Mrs.  Caroline  Lansdale  at  six- 
thirty  on  the  evening  of  her  arrival,  she  having 
gleaned  from  his  letters,  it  appeared,  that  I  had  been 
a  rather  friendly  adviser  of  her  servant. 

In  the  days  that  followed  I  saw  that  Clem  was 
regarding  me  with  an  embarrassed,  troubled  look. 
Something  of  weight  lay  upon  his  mind.  Nor  was  it 
easy  to  make  him  speak,  but  I  achieved  this  at  last. 


1/2  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"Well,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  yo'-all  see,  Ah  ain't 
eveh  told  Miss  Cahline  that  yo's  a  Majah  in  th' 
Nawthun  ahmy." 

"No?"  I  said. 

"  No,  seh ;  Ah  ain't  even  said  yo's  been  a  common 
soljah." 

"  Well  ? " 

"  'Cause  Miss  Cahline's  tehible  heahtfelt  'bout  some 
mattehs.  Th'  Lansdales  sho'ly  kin  ca'y  a  grudge 
powful  long.  An'  so  —  seh  —  Ah  ain't  neveh  tole 
on  yo'." 

"  But  she'll  find  it  out." 

"  Yes,  seh,  an'  she  maght  f uhgit  it,  but  —  Ah  crave 
yo'  pahdon,  seh  —  theh's  yo'  ahm  what's  gone." 

"  It's  too  late  to  help  that,  Clem." 

"  Well,  seh  —  now  Ah  was  steddyin'  —  if  yo'  kin'ly 
grant  yo'  grace  of  pahdon,  seh  —  lahkly  'twould  com 
pliment  Miss  Cahline  ef  yo'  was  to  git  yo'se'f  fitted 
to  one  a'  them  unnatchel  limbs,  seh.  Yo'  sho'ly  go'n' 
a'  pesteh  huh  rec'lections  with  that  theh  saggin' 
sleeve,  Mahstah  Majah." 

But  this  kindly  meant  proposal  I  felt  compelled  to 
reject. 

"  No,  Clem,  you'll  have  to  fix  it  up  with  Miss  Caro 
line  the  best  you  can." 

"  Ve'y  well,  seh,  thank  yo',  seh  —  Ah  do  mah  ve'y 
best  fo'  yo'." 

But  I  saw  that  he  had  little  hope  of  ever  winning 
for  me  the  favor  of  his  captious  owner. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   COMING    OF    MISS   CAROLINE 

SHE  came  to  us  auspiciously  on  a  day  in  the  first 
week  of  June. 

Mistress  Caroline  Lansdale,  a  one-time  belle  of  the 
Old  Dominion,  relict  of  the  late  Colonel  Jere  Lans 
dale,  C.  S.  A.,  legislator  and  duellist,  whose  devotion 
to  her  in  the  days  of  their  courtship  had  been  the 
talk  of  two  states.  Not  less  notable  than  his  elo 
quence  in  the  forum,  his  skill  in  the  duello,  had  been 
the  determined  fervor  with  which  he  knelt  at  her 
feet.  And  I  waited  no  more  than  a  hundred  seconds 
in  her  presence  to  applaud  his  discernment. 

I  had  pictured  an  old  woman  —  some  aged  trifle  of 
an  elder  day,  sad,  withered,  devitalized,  intemperately 
reminiscent  —  steeped  in  traditions  that  would  leave 
her  formidable,  and  impracticable  as  a  friend  to  me. 
I  had  fancied  her  thus,  from  Clem's  fragmentary  and 
chance  descriptions  and  my  own  knowledge  of  what 
she  should  be  by  all  laws  of  the  probable ;  and  she 
was  not  as  I  had  evolved  her. 

The  day  she  came  was  one  of  Little  Arcady's 
best ;  quite  all  that  her  anxious  servitor  could  have 
wished,  —  a  day  of  summer's  first  abundance,  when  our 
green-bordered  streets  basked  in  a  tempered  sunlight, 


1/4  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

and  our  trim  white  cottages  nestled  coolly  back  of 
their  flower  gardens.  Harried  alien  as  she  was,  she 
would  be  welcomed  with  smiles,  and  I  was  glad  for 
her  sake  and  Clem's  when  I  hurried  home  to  dress 
for  that  first  dinner  with  her. 

On  my  way  across  the  lawn  at  six-thirty  I  picked  a 
bunch  of  the  newly  opened  yellow  roses  as  a  peace 
offering,  should  one  be  needed.  Clem,  in  his  most 
formal  dress,  received  me  ceremoniously  at  the  door, 
his  look  betraying  only  the  faintest,  formalest  ac 
knowledgment  of  having  ever  encountered  mine 
before.  With  a  superb  bow  toward  the  drawing- 
room  and  in  tones  stiffly  magnificent,  he  announced, 
"  Mistah  Calvin  Blake."  It  was  excellently  done,  but 
I  knew  he  had  rehearsed  the  "Mistah." 

Then  a  woman  rose  from  one  of  the  deep  old 
chairs  to  offer  me  her  hand,  and  a  soft  quick  laugh 
came  as  she  perceived  my  difficulty,  for  my  one  hand 
held  the  roses.  These  she  gathered  gracefully  into 
her  left  hand,  while  her  right  fell  into  mine  with  a 
swift  little  pressure  as  she  bade  me  welcome. 

"  Clem  has  told  me  of  you,  Mr.  Blake.  I  feel  that 
you  are  one  of  us.  Let  me  thank  you  at  once  for  the 
consideration  you  have  shown  him." 

In  the  half  light  I  hesitated  awkwardly  enough  to 
speak  her  name,  for  I  felt  that  this  could  not  be  the 
mother  of  Little  Miss.  Rather  was  it  the  daughter 
herself.  I  stammered  words  that  must  have  revealed 
my  uncertainty,  for  again  she  laughed,  and  then  she 
ordered  lights. 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  175 

Clem  came  soft-footedly  with  a  branching  cande 
labra,  which  he  placed  on  the  round-topped  old  table 
by  which  she  had  been  sitting.  She  moved  a  step  to 
where  the  soft  lights  glowed  up  into  her  face,  and 
with  mock  seriousness  stood  to  be  surveyed  fairly. 

"  There,  Mr.  Blake !  You  see  I  confess  all  my 
years." 

And  I  saw  the  truth,  that  she  loitered  gracefully 
among  the  vague  and  pleasant  fifties.  But  then  she 
did  a  thing  which  would  have  been  injudicious  in 
most  women  of  her  years.  Her  hand,  still  holding 
my  roses,  went  up  to  her  face,  and  her  cheek  glowed 
dusky  and  pink  against  the  yellow  petals.  I  saw 
that  she  rightly  appraised  her  own  daring  and  felt 
free  to  say  :  — 

"You  see!  My  confusion  was  inevitable.  Not 
one  of  those  candles  can  be  spared  if  I  am  to  believe 
you  are  Miss  Caroline." 

Again  she  laughed,  revealing  now  a  girlish  fresh 
ness  in  the  small  mouth,  that  had  somehow  lingered 
to  belie  the  deeper,  graver  lines  about  her  dark  eyes. 
As  she  still  regarded  me  with  that  smiling,  waiting 
lift  of  the  short  upper  lip,  I  called  out :  — 

"  More  lights,  Clem  !     I  need  all  you  have." 

Whereat  Miss  Caroline  fell  into  her  chair  with  a 
marvellous  blush,  an  undeniable  darkening  of  the 
pink  on  cheeks  that  were  in  texture  like  the  finest, 
sheerest  lawn. 

Never  thereafter  could  I  refuse  credence  to  tales, 
of  -which  many  came  to  me,  exposing  Miss  Caroline 


176  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

as  an  able  and  relentless  coquette.  Nor  could  I  fail 
to  understand  how  the  late  Colonel  Jere  Lansdale 
would  have  found  need  to  be  a  duellist  after  he  be 
came  her  lover,  even  had  he  aforetime  been  unskilled 
in  that  difficult  art 

As  she  chatted,  chiefly  of  her  journey,  I  falsely 
pretended  to  listen,  whereas  I  only  stared  and  in 
spirit  was  prostrate  before  her.  Mere  kneeling  at 
her  feet  savored  too  nearly  of  arrogance.  I  felt  the 
need  to  be  a  spread  rug  in  her  presence.  She  sat 
back  in  the  chair  that  embraced  her  loosely,  a  slight 
figure  with  a  small  head,  on  which  the  heavy  strands 
of  whitening  hair  seemed  only  a  powdered  lie  above 
the  curiously  girlish  face.  A  tiny  black  patch  or  two 
on  the  face,  I  thought,  would  have  made  this  illusion 
perfect.  And  yet  when  she  did  not  laugh,  or  in  some 
little  silence  of  recollection,  the  deeper  lines  stood 
out,  and  I  could  see  that  sorrow  had  long  known 
its  way  to  her  face.  It  even  lurked  now  back  of 
her  eyes,  and  I  knew  that  she  tried  to  keep  her 
face  lighted  for  me  so  that  I  should  not  detect  it. 
She  succeeded  admirably,  but  the  smile  could  not 
always  be  there,  and  ghosts  of  her  dead  years  came 
stealthily  to  haunt  her  face  as  surely  as  the  smile 
went. 

When  Clem,  with  an  air  of  having  had  word  from 
a  numerous  kitchen  crew,  stood  before  us  and  bowed 
out,  "  Miss  Cahline,  dinneh  is  suhved !  "  I  gave  her 
my  arm  with  a  feeling  of  vast  relief.  Not  only  was 
Miss  Caroline  an  abiding  joy,  but  apprehension  as 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  177 

to  ray  modest  complicity  in  her  late  distress  had,  too, 
evidently  been  groundless.  She  had  once,  with  what 
seemed  to  be  an  almost  artificial  politeness,  asked 
me  about  our  timber  supply  and  the  state  of  the 
lumber  market ;  queries  to  which  I  had  replied  with 
an  assumption  of  interest  equally  artificial,  for  I  was 
ignorant  of  both  topics,  and  not  even  remotely  con 
cerned  about  either. 

Seated  at  the  table,  which  Clem  had  arrayed  with 
a  faultless  artistry,  I  promptly  demanded  the  removal 
of  a  tall  piece  of  cut  glass  and  its  burden  of  carna 
tions,  asserting  that  both  glass  and  flowers  might  be 
well  enough  in  their  way,  but  that  I  could  regard 
them  only  as  a  blank  wall  of  exasperating  ugliness 
while  they  interrupted  a  view  of  my  hostess. 
Whereat  I  was  again  regaled  with  that  imcompar- 
able  blush. 

Clem  served  a  soup  that  had  been  two  days  in  the 
making  and  was  worth  the  time.  But  even  ere  the 
stain  had  faded  from  the  cheeks  of  my  hostess, 
cheeks  of  slightly  crumpled  roseleaf,  another  look 
flashed  the  smile  from  her  eyes  —  a  quick,  firm,  woman 
look  of  suffering  and  defiance. 

She  had  raised  her  glass,  and  I  mechanically  did 
the  same. 

"Mr.  Blake,  let  us  drink  standing! — we  women 
earned  the  right  to  stand  with  you." 

A  little  puzzled,  I  stood  up  to  face  her,  as  Clem 
pulled  back  her  chair.  One  hand  on  the  table,  the 
other  reaching  her  slender  stemmed  glass  aloft, 


178  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

she  leaned  toward  me  with  a  look  of  singular  ve 
hemence. 

"  To  our  murdered  brothers  and  husbands  and 
sons,  Mr.  Blake!  To  our  lost  leaders  and  our 
deathless  lost  cause !  To  Jefferson  Davis  and  Rob 
ert  Edmund  Lee !  To  the  Confederate  States  of 
America  !  " 

A  black  wind  seemed  to  blow  across  the  face  of 
her  servitor's  fluttering  eyelids.  But  I  drank  loy 
ally  to  Mrs.  Caroline  Lansdale  and  whatsoever  that 
woman  would.  I  could  see  that  Clem  exhaled  a  deep 
breath.  How  long  he  had  held  it  I  know  not. 

We  resumed  our  seats,  and  the  dinner  went  for 
ward  with  my  hostess  again  herself.  It  was  a  dinner 
not  heavy  but  choice,  a  repast  upon  which  Clem  had 
magically  worked  all  his  spells.  There  was  a  bass 
that  had  nosed  the  river's  current  that  morning,  two 
pullets  cut  off  in  the  very  dawn  of  adolescence,  and  a 
mysteriously  perfect  pastry  whose  secret  I  had  never 
been  able  to  wring  from  him  beyond  the  uninforming 
and  obvious  enough  data  that  it  contained  "  some 
sugah  an'  a  little  spicin's." 

Having  for  my  luncheon  that  day  suffered  an  up- 
to-date  dinner  at  Budds's,  I  felt  a  genuine  craving  for 
food ;  yet  the  spell  of  my  hostess  was  such  that  I 
left  her  table  ahungered. 

Again  there  was  an  inexplicable  reference  from 
her  to  the  timber  and  sawed-lumber  interests  of  the 
Little  Country,  and  the  circumstance  that  another 
black  wind  seemed  to  shiver  the  eyelids  of  Clem  lent 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  179 

no  light  to  the  mystery  of  it.  But  then,  as  if  some 
recondite  duty  to  me  had  been  safely  performed,  she 
talked  to  me  of  herself,  of  days  when  the  youth  of 
the  Old  Dominion  had  been  covetous  of  her  smiles, 
of  nightly  triumphs  in  ball  and  rout,  of  gay  seasons 
at  the  nation's  capital,  amid  the  fashion  and  beauty 
and  wit  of  Pierce's  administration  and  of  Buchanan's, 
of  rounds  of  calls  made  in  her  calash,  of  bewitching 
gowns  she  had  worn,  of  theatres  and  musicales  and 
teas  and  embassy  receptions,  in  a  day  when  Harriet 
Lane  was  mistress  of  the  White  House. 

For  my  pleasing  she  laughed  her  sprightly  way 
through  memories  of  that  romantic  past,  when  she 
danced  and  chattered  in  the  fulness  of  her  bellehood, 
bringing  out  a  multitude  of  treasured  mementoes, 
compliments  she  had  compelled,  witticisms  she  had 
prompted,  pranks  she  had  played,  delectable  repasts 
she  had  eaten  at  Lady  Napier's  or  another's,  the 
splendor  of  pageants  she  had  witnessed.  And  though 
she  was  back  in  an  elder  day,  she  glowed  young  as 
she  talked,  whether  recalling  official  solemnities  or  a 
once-cherished  gown  of  embroidered  tulle,  caught  up 
with  bunches  of  grapes.  The  girl's  mouth  was  her's 
—  fresh  and  full,  unlined  by  care. 

It  was  not  until  she  talked  of  later,  younger  days 
that  her  face  took  on  an  old  look. 

"  When  our  federated  states  rose  up  in  their 
might,"  was  a  phrase  that  brought  the  change. 
Thereafter  she  spoke  in  subdued  tones  of  a  time 
more  eventful  than  romantic,  but  still  absorbing. 


180  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCAD\ 

She  remembered  the  words  in  which  she  felicitated 
General  Pope  Walker  for  having  issued  the  order  to 
fire  on  Sumter.  She  gave  details  of  the  privation 
that  Richmond  on  her  seven  hills  had  suffered  in  the 
latter  days,  and  she  made  plain  why  their  women 
should  rise  with  their  men  to  drink  certain  toasts  ; 
how  they,  too,  had  sacrificed  and  toiled  and  suffered 
with  the  same  loyal  tenacity.  She  mentioned  "  the 
present  government "  casually,  as  the  affair  of  a  day ; 
and  spoke  of  "  Mr.  Lincoln,  their  Northern  President," 
in  a  tone  implying  confidence  that  I  shared  her  feel 
ing  for  him. 

As  we  went  back  to  the  drawing-room  for  coffee, 
she  summed  up  herself  to  me,  though  she  thought  to 
sum  up  more  than  herself. 

"  They  swept  us  with  the  besom  of  war,  Mr.  Blake, 
and  they  overwhelmed  —  but  they  could  not  subju 
gate  us.". 

As  she  spoke,  my  eyes  caught  for  the  first  time  a 
portrait  that  hung  on  the  wall  back  of  her.  It  was 
the  portrait  of  one  dark  but  fair,  with  shoulders  of  a 
girlish  slenderness  all  but  thin,  with  eyes  of  glowing 
dusk  and  a  half-smile  upon  her  lips.  It  was  like  my 
hostess  in  a  fashion  of  line  and  color,  and  yet  enough 
unlike  her  so  that  I  knew  it  must  be  the  daughter. 
The  face  was  a  shade  narrower  of  chin,  a  bit  longer, 
and  in  some  obscure  differing  of  the  features  there 
was  an  effect  of  more  poise,  almost  of  a  maturer 
dignity,  so  that  while  I  divined  it  was  the  face  of  her 
daughter,  it  would  seem  to  have  been  better  planned 
for  the  face  of  her  mother. 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  181 

She  followed  my  eyes  to  the  picture,  and  her  face 
was  still  almost  stern  from  her  last  speech,  though  it 
is  true  that  the  sternness  was  a  dimpled  sternness,  for 
the  chin  of  my  hostess  was  rounded. 

"  They  overwhelmed  us,  Mr.  Blake,  —  my  daughter 
there,  and  me,  and  God  alone  has  counted  how  many 
other  wretched  women.  Her  they  struck  a  double 
blow  —  they  killed  the  two  men  she  loved.  One  was 
her  father,  but  she  flew  to  the  other.  She  found  her 
picture  in  his  dead  hands.  Our  young  men  were  apt 
to  die  in  that  fashion ;  and  when  she  put  it  back  to 
be  buried  with  him,  her  eyes  were  dry.  Even  under 
her  double  blow,  she  was  stronger  than  I.  She  has 
been  stronger  ever  since,  but  she  suffered  more  than 
I  was  made  to.  Oh,  it  was  a  fine  thing  for  them 
to  do!" 

Her  voice  rose  at  the  last  into  a  little  trembling 
gust  of  passion,  and  I  saw  again  the  spirit  that  gave 
those  women  the  right  to  stand  with  the  men.  She 
recovered  herself  quickly,  and  the  girl  in  her  smiled 
upon  me  again. 

"  You  must  overlook  my  forgetfulness.  I  shall  not 
forget  often,  especially  now  that  I  am  among  these 
murderous  fanatics.  But  I  was  tired  to-night,  and 
I  was  so  glad  when  I  knew  I  could  talk  to  you 
freely." 

Her  eyes  were  upon  me  in  friendly  unreserve,  in 
confident  appeal. 

In  the  face  of  what  I  should  have  felt,  I  was 
ashamed  at  that  moment,  and  in  the  nervousness  of 


182  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

hidden  guilt  I  handled  the  minute  coffee  cup  awk 
wardly.  Clem,  who  must  have  been  equally  nervous, 
stepped  to  right  the  thing  in  its  saucer,  with  "  Yes, 
seh,  Mahstah  Majah  !  " 

From  across  the  table  I  knew,  without  raising  my 
eyes,  that  his  mistress  glanced  up  at  Clem  in  quick 
astonishment,  then  that  her  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
my  face.  I  still  regarded  the  coffee  interestedly,  but 
I  knew  that  I  myself  blushed  now  and  I  suspected 
that  my  hostess  was  pale. 

"  Major  ? "  she  began  questioningly,  then  more 
decidedly,  "  Major  Blake  ? " 

I  raised  my  eyes  to  hers  and  nodded  idiotically. 

She  laughed  a  little  laugh  that  was  icy  in  its 
politeness. 

"  How  stupid  of  me,  and  now  I  must  ask  your 
pardon  for  all  my  tirade,  for  my  blasphemies,  and 
for  that  monstrous  toast  I  —  really  —  " 

She  shot  a  look  at  Clem,  under  which  he  blanched 
visibly,  then  her  eyes  were  again  upon  me  and  she 
smiled  with  a  rare  art. 

"  Really,  you  will  overlook  an  old  woman's  weak 
ness." 

It  was  the  inimical,  remote,  icy  superiority  of  her 
tone  that  nettled  me  —  perhaps  her  implied  assump 
tion  that  I  would  not  know  it  for  such.  But  also  I 
felt  curiously  stricken  by  that  swift  withdrawal  of 
her  confidence,  for  Mrs.  Caroline  Lansdale  had  won 
me  by  her  laugh  and  blush  of  ancient  girlishness. 
Further,  I  would  not  now  be  hurt  by  any  woman, 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  183 

though  she  were  ten  times  my  years,  without  a  show 
of  defence. 

I  arose  as  Clem  hastily  fled  from  the  room. 

"  Miss  Caroline  —  "  I  waited  for  the  fine  little 
brows  to  go  up  at  that.  I  had  not  long  to  wait. 

"  I  shall  positively  never  call  you  anything  else  but 
Miss  Caroline  while  you  permit  me  to  address  you 
at  all  —  understand  it  —  I've  associated  with  your 
boy  too  long.  Well,  I  did  do  four  years  of  fighting, 
and  I  was  mustered  out  with  the  rank  of  Major.  You 
might  as  well  know  it  now  as  later.  You'll  have 
longer  to  forget  it.  I  wish  I  could  forget  it  myself. 
Not  the  fact,  for  I  should  fight  again  as  long  and  try 
to  fight  harder  in  the  same  cause,  but  the  hellish- 
ness  of  it  —  the  damnable,  inhuman  obscenity  of  it  — 
I  should  like  to  forget.  I  never  said  so  before,  Miss 
Caroline,  —  there  was  no  one  to  say  it  to,  —  but  it 
made  me  old  before  my  time.  Why,  I  could  almost 
be  a  son  of  yours,  if  you  will  pardon  that  minor 
brutality,  and  the  thing  is  aging  me  to  this  day.  I 
helped  to  kill  your  young  men  and  your  old  men, 
but  you  ought  to  know  that  I  didn't  do  it  for  holiday 
sport.  The  first  one  of  your  men  I  saw  dead  lay 
alone  by  the  roadside,  a  boy,  foolishly  young,  with  a 
tired  face  that  was  still  smiling.  He'd  fallen  there 
as  if  sleep  had  overtaken  him  on  the  march.  Our 
column  had  halted,  and  I  went  to  him.  It  must  have 
taken  a  full  minute  for  me  to  realize  that  this  was 
dignified  war  and  not  the  murder  of  a  boy  in  a 
homely  gray  uniform.  When  I  did  realize  it,  I  was 


1 84  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

so  weakened  that  I  broke  down  and  cried.  I  was  a 
private  then.  I  covered  his  face,  and  got  up  strong 
enough  to  assault  two  other  privates  who  had  found 
my  snivelling  funny.  One  of  them  went  to  the  field 
hospital,  and  I  went  under  arrest  when  I'd  finished 
with  the  other.  You  ought  to  know,  Miss  Caroline, 
that  the  sight  of  thousands  of  your  other  dead  never 
moved  me  to  any  merriment.  I  tried  to  be  a  good 
soldier,  but  I  felt  the  death  pains  of  every  fallen 
man  I  saw.  I  didn't  stop  to  note  the  color  of  his 
uniform.  Miss  Caroline  —  " 

I  waited  until  I  had  made  her  look  at  me. 

"  The  war  is  over,  you  know.  Suppose  you  forget 
me  as  a  soldier  and  take  me  as  a  man.  Really,  I  be 
lieve  we  ought  to  know  each  other  better." 

Clem  had  once  found  occasion  to  say,  "  When  Miss 
Cahline  tek  th'  notion  to  shine  huh  eyes  up,  she  sho' 
is  a  highly  illuminous  puhsonality." 

I  saw  then  what  he  meant,  for  Miss  Caroline  had 
"  shined  "  her  eyes,  and  they  flooded  me  with  a  dis 
tracting  medley  of  lights.  I  thought  she  struggled 
very  uncertainly  with  herself.  Her  eyes  shifted  from 
my  face  to  the  empty  sleeve.  Twice  before  that 
evening  —  I  remembered  it  had  been  when  she  spoke 
so  enigmatically  of  the  lumber  industry  —  her  eyes 
had  rested  there  briefly,  discreetly,  but  in  all  sym 
pathy.  Now  the  look  was  different.  It  wavered. 
At  one  instant  I  seemed  to  read  regret  that  I  had 
come  off  so  well  —  her  eyes  flickered  suggestively  to 
my  remaining  arm. 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS  CAROLINE  185 

"  Be  fair,"  I  said  ;  "  did  I  not  drink  your  toast  ?  " 

I  thought  she  wavered  at  this,  for  a  blush  deeper 
than  all  the  others  suffused  her. 

"  Besides,"  I  continued  warningly,  "  you  are  within 
the  enemy's  lines  now,  and  you  may  find  me  a  help. 
Come  !  "  and  I  held  out  my  hand. 

Very  slowly  she  put  her  own  within  it.  I  noticed 
that  it  was  still  plump,  the  fine  skin  not  yet  withered. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Major  Blake.  I  had  been 
misinformed,  or  you  should  have  had  no  occasion  to 
think  me  rude." 

It  was  then  that  I  wished  definitely  to  shake  Miss 
Caroline. 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said,  "  you  are  not  giving  me 
what  you  gave  at  first.  I'm  not  to  be  put  off  that 
way,  you  know.  If  I  call  you  Miss  Caroline,  —  and 
I've  sworn  to  call  you  nothing  else,  —  you  must  be 
Miss  Caroline." 

She  searched  my  face  eagerly,  —  then  — 

"  You  shall  call  me  Miss  Caroline  —  but  remember, 
sir,  it  makes  you  my  servant."  She  smiled  again, 
without  the  icy  reserve  this  time,  whereat  I  was  glad 
—  but  back  of  the  smile  I  could  see  that  she  felt  a 
bitter  homesickness  of  the  new  place. 

"Your  most  obedient  servant,"  I  said.  "You  have 
another  slave,  Miss  Caroline,  another  that  refuses 
manumission  —  another  bit  of  personal  property, 
clumsy  but  willing." 

"  Thank  you,  Major.  I  need  your  kindness  more 
than  I  might  seem  to  need  it.  Good  night! "  and  even 


1 86  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

then  she  gave  me  a  rose,  with  the  same  coquetry,  I 
doubt  not,  that  had  once  made  Colonel  Jere  Lansdale 
quick  to  think  of  his  pistols  when  another  evoked  it. 
Only  now  it  masked  her  weariness,  her  sense  of 
desperate  desolation.  I  took  the  rose  and  kissed  her 
hand.  I  left  her  wilting  in  the  big  chair,  staring  hard 
into  the  fireplace  that  Clem  had  filled  with  summer 
green  things. 

When  my  fellow-chattel  appeared  next  morning 
with  my  coffee,  he  was  embarrassed.  With  guile  he 
strove  to  be  talkative  about  matters  of  no  consequence. 
But  this  availed  him  not. 

"Clem,"  I  said  frigidly,  "tell  me  just  what  you 
said  to  Mrs.  Lansdale  about  me." 

He  paltered,  shifting  on  his  feet,  his  brow  con 
tracted  in  perplexity,  as  if  I  had  propounded  some 
intricate  trifle  of  the  higher  mathematics. 

"Huh!  Wha  —  what's  that  yo'-all  is  a-sayin', 
Mahstah  Majah  ? " 

"  Stop  that,  now  !  I  needn't  tell  you  twice  what  I 
said.  Out  with  it !  " 

"  Well,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  of  co'se,  yo'-all  tole 
me  to  fix  it  mah  own  way,  an'  Ah  lay  Ah  'd  do  it 
raghtly  —  an'  so  Miss  Cahline  is  ve'y  busy  goin' 
th'oo  th'  rooms  an'  spressin'  huhse'f  how  grand  eveh- 
thing  suttinly  do  look  an'  so  fothe  an'  so  on,  an'  sh' 
ain't  payin'  much  attention  —  Ah  reckon  sh'  ain't 
huhd  raghtly—" 

"Clem — the  Bible  says,  'How  forceful  are  right 
words  ! ' " 


THE   COMING   OF   MISS   CAROLINE  187 

He  stopped  at  my  look,  despaired,  and  became 
succinct. 

"  Well,  seh,  Ah  jes'  think  Ah  brek  it  to  huh  easy- 
lahk,  by  degrees,  so  Ah  sais  yo'  is  a  genaman  of 
wahm  South'n  lahkings.  Ah  sais  yo'  been  so  hot  fo' 
th'  South  all  th'oo  that  theh  wah  that  evehbody 
yeh'bouts  despised  an'  reviled  you.  An'  she  sais  why 
ain't  yo'  gone  f aght  f o'  th'  South  ef  yo'-all  so  hot  about 
it,  an'  Ah  sais  yo'  was  eageh  to  go,  but  yo'  been  in  the 
timbeh  business,  an'  one  day  yo'  got  rash  about  yo' 
saw-mill,  an'  th'  ole  buzz-saw  jes'  natchelly  tuk  off  yo' 
ahm,  so's  yo'  couldn't  go  to  th'  wah.  Yes,  seh, 
Mahstah  Majah  —  Ah  laid  Ah'd  brek  it  grajally  —  an' 
Ah  suttingly  did  have  that  lady  a-thinkin'  ve'y  highly 
of  yo'  at  th'  time  of  yo'  entrance,  seh,  — yes,  seh ! " 


CHAPTER  XV 

LITTLE   ARCADY   VIEWS   A   PARADE 

AND  so  began  the  time  of  Miss  Caroline  among 
us,  —  one  effect  the  more  of  Fate's  mad  trickery. 
It  was  my  privilege  to  be  more  intimately  aware  of 
her  concerns  than  was  the  town  at  large.  And  even 
to  me  in  those  days  she  carried  off  the  difficulties  of 
her  lot  with  a  manner  so  plausible  that  it  clenched 
my  admiration  if  it  did  not  win  my  belief.  I  knew 
that  she  daily  bore  a  burden  of  ruin  and  faced  a 
future  of  perilous  uncertainty.  I  knew  that  she 
must  have  journeyed  into  our  strange  land  with  a 
real  terror,  nerved  to  that  course  only  by  a  resolve 
to  be  no  longer  a  burden  upon  her  impoverished 
kinsman.  Surely  it  had  been  like  dying  a  death  for 
her  to  leave  the  land  of  her  own  people,  devastated 
though  it  was  and  vacant  of  those  who  had  made  the 
world  easy  for  her. 

And  I  was  not  a  little  puzzled  by  the  tie  that  bound 
her  to  her  one  remaining  stay.  Both  she  and  Clem, 
I  saw,  considered  her  coming  to  him  to  be  a  thing  so 
natural  that  it  should  excite  no  wonder,  a  thing  familiar 
in  the  thought  and  as  little  to  be  puzzled  about  as  their 
own  breathing.  I  saw  that  her  perplexities  lay  not 

1 88 


LITTLE   ARCADY  VIEWS   A  PARADE          189 

at  all  in  this  black  fellow's  unthinking  adherence  to 
his  life  of  service,  but  rather  in  the  circumstance  of 
her  spirit-grieving  exile  and  in  the  necessary  doubts 
of  her  chattel's  competence  for  the  feat  he  had  under 
taken. 

I  despaired  very  soon  of  ever  comprehending  the 
intricate  strands  of  their  relationship.  When  I  under 
stood,  as  I  was  not  long  in  doing,  that  each  was  in 
certain  ways  genuinely  afraid  of  the  other,  I  knew 
that  the  problem  must  always  be  far  beyond  my  own 
little  powers. 

As  to  Little  Arcady  at  large,  some  aspects  of  this 
complication  were  simpler  than  they  appeared  to  me ; 
others  were  more  obscure.  Of  the  tragedy  of  Miss 
Caroline's  mere  coming  to  us  they  could  suspect  noth 
ing,  save  it  might  be  the  humiliation  her  old-fashioned 
furniture  must  put  upon  her  in  a  prosperous  town 
where  so  much  of  the  furniture  was  elegant  to  the 
point  of  extravagance. 

In  the  much-discussed  matter  of  mistress  and  slave, 
the  town  agreed  simply  that  Clem  was  stupid  and  had 
been  deluded  by  Miss  Caroline  into  believing  that  a 
certain  proclamation  had  stopped  short  of  her  personal 
property.  It  was  believed  that  she  had  terrorized  him 
by  threatening  to  put  bloodhounds  on  his  trail  if  he 
ever  tried  to  run  off  —  for  the  town  knew  its  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  as  well  as  it  knew  "  Gaskell's  Com 
pendium."  It  was  thought  that  if  Clem  proved  to  be 
disobedient  or  rebellious,  his  mistress  would  try  to  hire 
"  Big  Joe  "  Kestril  or  some  equally  strong  person  to 


190  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

whip  him  with  a  "  black-snake."  <  Also  it  was  said  that 
she  had  sold  his  wife  away  from  him,  and  might  try 
to  sell  Clem  himself  if  ever  she  got  "  hard  up,"  though 
it  was  felt  that  she  would  be  wise  not  to  go  too  far  in 
that  matter. 

For  the  rest,  Little  Arcady  rather  rejoiced  in  the 
novelty  of  Miss  Caroline's  establishment.  There  was 
a  flavor  of  much-needed  romance  in  this  survival  at 
our  very  doors  of  an  ante-bellum  unrighteousness. 
The  town  cherished  a  hope  that  Clem  would  try  to 
run  off  some  time,  or  that  Miss  Caroline  would  have 
his  back  cut  to  ribbons,  or  try  to  sell  or  mortgage 
him  or  something,  thus  creating  entertainment  of  an 
agreeable  and  exciting  character. 

If  the  town  could  have  overheard  Clem  scolding 
the  lady  with  frank  irritation  in  his  voice,  —  as  I 
chanced  to  do  once  or  twice,  —  had  it  beheld  his 
scowl  as  he  raged,  "  Miss  Cahline,  yo'  sho'ly  gittin' 
old  'nuff  to  know  betteh'n  that.  I  suttinly  do  wish 
yo'  Paw  was  alive  an'  yeh'bouts.  Ah  git  him  afteh 
yo'  maghty  quick.  Now  yo'  jes'  remembeh  Ah  ain't 
go'n'  a'  have  no  sech  doin's  !  "  —  if  it  could  have  noted 
the  quailing  consternation  of  the  mistress  at  these 
moments,  it  might  have  been  puzzled ;  but  of  such 
phenomena  it  never  knew.  It  was  aware  only  that 
Miss  Caroline  treated  Clem  with  a  despotic  severity, 
issuing  commands  to  him  as  from  a  throne  of  power 
and  in  tones  of  acrid  authority  that  were  the  envy 
of  all  housekeepers  among  us  who  kept  "  hired 
girls." 


LITTLE   ARCADY   VIEWS   A  PARADE          191 

Even  Mrs.  Potts,  long  before  the  arrival  of  Miss 
Caroline,  had  despaired  of  teaching  Clem  to  make 
something  of  himself.  He  had  refused  to  subscribe 
for  a  "  Compendium,"  and  her  cordial  assurance  that 
he  was,  by  the  law  of  the  land,  both  a  man  and  a 
brother,  did  not  even  mildly  elate  him.  Mrs.  Potts 
was  soon  in  a  like  despair  regarding  Miss  Caroline, 
whom  she  regarded  as  too  frivolous  ever  to  make 
anything  of  herself.  These  two  ladies,  indeed,  were 
widely  apart.  Perhaps  I  can  intimate  the  extent  of 
their  unlikeness  by  revealing  that  Mrs.  Potts,  early  in 
our  acquaintance,  had  observed  of  me  that  I  was  not 
serious  enough ;  whereas  Miss  Caroline  was  pres 
ently  averring  to  my  face  that  I  was  entirely  too 
serious.  These  judgments  of  myself  seemed  to 
contrast  the  ladies  informingly. 

The  impression  that  Miss  Caroline  was  frivolous  — 
or  even  worse  —  became  current  the  day  after  her 
arrival  in  Little  Arcady.  Arrayed  in  a  lavender  silk 
dress  of  many  flounces,  with  bonnet  beribboned  gayly 
beyond  her  years,  shod  in  low  walking  shoes  of  heel 
iniquitously  high,  a  toe  minute  and  shining  and  an 
instep  ornate  to  an  unholy  degree,  bearing  a  slender 
gold-tipped  staff  of  polished  ebony  to  assist  theatri 
cally  in  her  progress,  and  bestowing  placid,  patron 
izing  looks  to  right  and  left,  she  had  flounced  into 
Main  Street,  followed  ceremoniously  by  her  black 
chattel,  himself  set  up  with  a  palpable  and  shameless 
pride  in  his  degradation,  saluting  stiffly  and  with  an 
artificial  grandeur  those  whom  he  would  otherwise 


192  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

have  greeted  with  the  unstudied  ease  of  long  asso 
ciation. 

This  procession  regaled  both  Main  and  Washing 
ton  streets,  where  Miss  Caroline  visited  our  shops  to 
make  inconsiderable  purchases  and  many  friends. 
It  was  a  function  the  pleasant  data  whereof  I  was 
not  long  in  collecting. 

Her  first  conquest  was  Chester  Pierce,  our  excellent 
hardware  merchant,  whom  she  commissioned  to  make 
a  needed  repair  to  her  range.  It  was  a  simple  busi 
ness  matter,  and  Chester  Pierce  is  a  simple  business 
person  of  plain  manners.  But  as  he  slouched  comfort 
ably  upon  his  counter  and  listened  to  Miss  Caroline's 
condescending  exposition  of  her  needs,  he  became 
sensible  of  a  strange  influence  stealing  upon  him. 
By  degrees  he  brought  himself  erect  and  slowly, 
dazedly  performed  an  act  which  had  never  before 
been  perpetrated  within  his  establishment.  It  was 
not  that  he  deliberated,  nor  that  his  reason  dictated 
it ;  but  instinctively,  almost  from  a  purely  reflex 
muscular  action,  he  removed  his  hat  while  Miss 
Caroline  talked,  feeling  himself  thrill  with  a  foreign 
and  most  suave  deference.  It  was  customary  in  our 
town  to  raise  your  hat  to  a  lady  on  the  street ;  but  for 
a  merchant,  and  a  solid  citizen  at  that,  to  do  this 
thing  in  his  own  establishment,  was  a  thing  unheard 
of  —  and  a  thing  of  pretentious  and  sickening  foppery 
when  it  was  heard  of,  for  that  matter,  though  this 
need  not  now  concern  us. 

"  And  be  sure  to  tell  my  servant  to  give  you  a  glass 


LITTLE   ARCADY   VIEWS   A  PARADE          193 

of  wine  when  your  work  is  done,"  concluded  Miss 
Caroline,  as  she  turned  to  rustle  silkily  out.  Whereat 
Chester  Pierce,  charter  member  and  President  of  our 
Sons  of  Temperance,  a  man  primed  with  all  statistics 
of  the  woe  resulting  traditionally  from  that  first  care 
less  glass,  murmured  words  unintelligible  but  of  grati 
fied  import,  and  bowed  low  after  the  retreating  vision. 
A  moment  later  he  was  staring  with  mystified  absorp 
tion  at  the  hat  in  his  hands,  quite  as  if  the  hat  were 
a  stranger's  —  and  then  he  brushed  it  around  and 
around  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat  sleeve  as  if  the 
stranger  had  not  been  careful  enough  of  it. 

Thence  paraded  Miss  Caroline  to  the  City  Drug 
Store,  to  be  bowed  well  out  to  the  sidewalk  by  young 
Arthur  Updyke  when  her  errand  within  had  been 
done.  But  Arthur  had  attended  a  college  of  phar 
macy  far  away  from  Slocum  County,  and  it  was  not 
unnatural  that  he  should  exhibit  an  alien  grace  in 
times  of  emergency. 

With  Westley  Keyts  again,  to  whose  shop  Miss 
Caroline  next  progressed,  it  was  as  with  Chester 
Pierce,  a  phenomenon  of  instinctive  muscular  reaction, 
—  that  of  his  hat  coming  off  as  he  greeted  the  stately 
little  lady  at  his  threshold  and  apologized  for  the 
sawdust  on  his  floor  which  was  compelling  her  to 
raise  a  froth  of  skirts  above  the  tops  of  those  sinful- 
looking  shoes.  I  suspect  that  Miss  Caroline  was 
rather  taken  with  Westley.  She  called  him  "  my 
good  man,"  which  made  him  feel  that  he  had  been 
distinguished  uncommonly,  and  she  chatted  with  him 


194  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

at  some  length,  asking  cordially  about  cuts  of  meat 
and  his  family,  two  matters  in  which  Westley  was 
much  absorbed.  He  declared  later  that  she  was  "  a 
grand  little  woman." 

There  followed  pilgrimages  that  June  morning  to 
the  First  National  Bank  and  to  several  of  our  lesser 
establishments ;  pilgrimages  rarely  diverting  to  Little 
Arcady  and  which  invariably  provoked  bows  under 
strangely  lifted  hats. 

But  there  were  Little  Arcadians  of  Miss  Caroline's 
own  sex  to  whom  she  might  not  so  swiftly  fetch  con 
fusion.  Aunt  Delia  McCormick  devoted  a  chance 
view  of  the  newcomer  to  discovering  that  the  gown 
of  lavender  satin  had  been  turned  and  made  over, 
none  too  expertly,  from  one  originally  built  some 
years  before  the  war.  Later  she  found  what  our 
ladies  agreed  was  its  primal  design,  after  much  turn 
ing  of  the  leaves  of  ancient  Godey's  magazines. 

Mrs.  Judge  Robinson,  from  one  sidelong  glance, 
brought  off  detailed  intelligence  of  the  bonnet's 
checkered  past. 

The  elder  Miss  Eubanks  decried  the  mannishness 
of  cane-bearing ;  and  Mrs.  Westley  Keyts,  entering 
the  shop  as  Miss  Caroline  was  bowed  out,  declared 
that  her  silk  stockings  were  of  a  hue  hardly  respect 
able,  and  that  she  wore  shoes  "  twice  too  small  for 
her." 

The  eyes  of  the  suddenly  urbane  Westley  glistened 
when  he  overheard  this,  but  he  fell  to  dissecting  a 
beef  without  further  sign. 


LITTLE   ARCADY   VIEWS   A   PARADE          195 

For  better  or  worse,  Miss  Caroline  and  Little 
Arcady  had  exchanged  impressions  of  each  other. 

I  met  her  by  chance  that  morning  and  was 
charmed  by  her  flattering  implication  of  reliance 
upon  myself.  She  made  me  feel  that  our  under 
standing  was  secret  and  our  attachment  romantic. 
To  complete  her  round  of  our  commercial  centre  I 
escorted  her  to  the  Argus  office.  Her  greeting  of 
Solon  Denney  was  a  thing  to  behold  with  unalloyed 
delight.  They  seemed  to  understand  each  other  at 
once.  Two  minutes  after  Solon  had  looked  up  in 
some  astonishment  from  his  dusty,  over-piled  desk, 
they  were  arrayed  as  North  and  South  in  a  combat 
of  blithest  raillery. 

Miss  Caroline  sat  in  Solon's  battered  chair  with  the 
missing  castor,  surveyed  his  exchange-laden  desk  with 
a  humorous  eye,  and  seized  the  last  Argus,  skimming 
its  local  columns  with  a  lively  interest  and  professing 
to  be  enthralled  by  its  word-magic.  She  read  stray 
items  that  commended  themselves  to  her  critical  judg 
ment,  such  as,  "  A  wind  blew  last  week  that  you 
could  lean  up  against  like  the  side  of  the  house  ;  "  or 
"Westley  Keyts  has  a  bran-new  'No  Admittance!' 
sign  over  the  door  of  his  slaughter-house.  We  don't 
see  why.  He  could  put  up  a  '  Come  one,  come  all ! ' 
sign  and  still  not  get  us  into  the  place.  They're 
messy." 

Further  she  read,  "  Some  fiend  with  sub-human 
instincts  ravaged  our  secret  hoard  of  eating-apples 
while  we  were  out  meeting  the  farmers  last  Saturday 


196  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

afternoon.  We  wish  they  had  been  of  no  value  to 
any  one  except  the  owner."  And  then,  in  her  spright- 
liest  manner,  and  with  every  sign  of  enjoyment,  she 
went  on  to  an  item  during  the  reading  of  which  I 
think  we  both  flushed  a  little,  Solon  and  I :  — 
"  The  United  States  Is 

"  Some  grammar  sharp  down  East  says  you  must 
say  '  The  United  States  are.'  But  we  guess  not. 
Opinions  to  that  effect  prevailed  widely  to  the  south 
of  us  some  years  ago,  but  the  contrary  was  proved, 
we  believe.  The  United  States  is,  brother,  ever 
since  Appomattox,  and  even  the  grammar  book 
should  testify  to  its  is-ness  —  to  its  everlasting  and 
indivisible  oneness." 

She  carried  it  off  so  finely  that  I  knew  Miss 
Caroline  had  recovered  from  the  fatigues  of  her 
journey. 

"  I  shall  write  you  an  item  myself,"  she  exclaimed, 
and  seizing  a  stubby  pencil,  she  wrote  rapidly  :  — 

"A  battered  and  ungrammatical  old  woman  from 
the  valley  of  Virginia  has  settled  in  our  midst.  She 
will  always  believe  that  the  United  States  are,  but 
she  is  harmless  and  otherwise  sane." 

"  Have  I  caught  the  style  ?  —  have  I  used  '  in  our 
midst'  correctly?"  she  asked  Solon.  And  he  pro 
tested  that  her  style  was  faultless  but  that  her  matter 
was  grossly  misleading. 

From  this  she  was  presently  assuring  him,  in  all 
pleasantness,  that  the  seed  of  Cain,  descended  through 
Ham,  would,  by  reason  of  the  curse  of  God,  be  a 


LITTLE   ARCADY   VIEWS  A   PARADE          197 

"  servant  of  servants  "  unto  the  end;  while  Solon  was 
assuring  her,  with  equal  good  nature,  that  this  scrip 
tural  law  had  been  repealed  by  President  Lincoln. 

Her  retort,  "  I  dare  say  your  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
capable  of  wishing  to  repeal  the  Bible,"  was  her 
nearest  approach  to  asperity. 

"A  battered  old  woman!  "  said  Solon  to  me  later. 
"  She  looks  more  like  a  candy  saint,  if  they  make  such 
things,  —  one  that  a  child  has  been  careless  with." 
We  agreed  that  she  was  an  addition  to  Little  Arcady. 

The  editor  of  the  Argus  sighed  at  this  point,  and 
I  thought  he  might  be  wishing  that  all  feminine  new 
comers  could  be  like  the  latest.  For  Mrs.  Aurelia 
Potts,  whose  leisure  Heaven  had  increased,  was  now 
redoubling  her  efforts  to  make  the  Argus  a  well  of 
English  undefiled — undefiled  by  what  she  called 
"journalisms."  Solon  must  not,  he  confided  to  me, 
say  "enthuse"  nor  "we  opine"  nor  " disremember." 
He  might  not  say  that  the  pastor  "  was  given "  a 
donation  party  when  he  really  meant  that  the  party 
was  given,  —  not  that  the  pastor  was  given.  Further, 
he  must  be  cautious  in  the  uses  of  "  who "  and 
"whom,"  and  try  to  break  himself  of  the  "a  good 
time  was  enjoyed  by  all  present "  habit. 

"  And  she  always  says  '  diddy-you '  instead  of 
'  dij-you,'  "  broke  in  my  namesake,  who,  loitering  near 
us,  had  overheard  the  name  of  Mrs.  Potts. 

"  That  will  do,  Calvin  !  "  said  his  father,  shortly. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  the  still  young  life  of  Solon 
was  fast  being  blighted. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE    SPECTRE    OF    SCANDAL    IS    RAISED 

A  GRAVER  charge  than  frivolity  was  soon  to  be 
brought  against  the  widow  of  the  late  Colonel  Jere 
Lansdale.  Not  with  her  antiquated  gown,  her  as 
sisting  staff,  the  gay  bonnet,  nor  yet  with  the  showy 
small  slippers  and  silken  hose  tinted  unseasonably 
to  her  years  did  scandal  engage  itself ;  but  rather 
with  the  circumstance  that  she  drank. 

To  "  drink  "  meant  in  Little  Arcady  to  get  drunk, 
as  "  Big  Joe  "  Kestril  did  every  pay-day.  Clarence 
Stull,  polishing  a  stove  in  the  rear  of  Pierce's  hard 
ware  store,  was  swift  to  divulge  that  Mrs.  Lansdale 
had  "  asked  Chet  Pierce  to  have  a  glass  of  wine,  — 
and  him  a-bowin'  and  a-scrapin'  like  you'd  think  he 
was  goin'  to  fly  off  the  handle ! " 

It  was  enough  for  the  town.  The  unfortunate 
woman  had  not  yet  reeled  through  its  streets,  but 
Little  Arcady  would  give  her  time,  and  it  knew  there 
could  be  but  one  result.  That  sort  of  thing  might 
be  done  in  tales  of  vicious  high  life  to  point  a  moral, 
but  in  the  real  world  it  could  not  compatibly  exist 
with  good  conduct.  Even  Aunt  Delia  McCormick, 
good  Methodist  as  she  was,  who  "  put  up  "  a  little 
elderberry  wine  each  year  for  communion  purposes, 

198 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   SCANDAL   IS   RAISED     199 

was  thought  by  more  than  one  to  strain  near  to  the 
breaking  point  the  third  branch  of  that  concise  be 
hest  to  "  Touch  not,  taste  not,  handle  not ! " 

The  ladies  were  at  once  dismayed  about  Miss 
Caroline,  from  Aunt  Delia  herself  to  Marcella  Eu- 
banks,  who  kept  conspicuous  upon  her  dressing-table 
a  bedizened  motto  of  the  Daughters  of  Rebecca,  — 
"The  lips  that  touch  wine  shall  never  touch  mine." 
It  is  true  that  this  legend  appeared  to  Marcella  to 
be  a  bit  licentious  in  its  implications  as  to  lips  not 
touched  by  wine.  It  had,  indeed,  first  been  hung 
in  the  parlor ;  but  one  Creston  Fancett,  in  the  course 
of  an  evening  call  upon  Miss  Eubanks,  had  read  the 
thing  aloud,  twice  over,  and  then  observed  with  a 
sinister  significance  that  wine  had  never  touched  his 
own  lips.  Whereupon,  in  a  coarsely  conceived  spirit 
of  humor,  he  proceeded  to  act  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
that  he  was  a  gentleman. 

Hence  the  card's  seclusion  in  Marcella's  boudoir. 
Hence,  likewise,  Marcella's  subsequent  preference, 
in  her  temperance  propaganda,  for  straightforward 
means  which  no  gentleman  could  affect  to  misunder 
stand.  She  relied  chiefly  thereafter  upon  some  highly 
colored  charts  depicting  the  interior  of  the  human 
stomach  in  varying  stages  of  alcoholic  degeneration. 
According  to  these,  "a  single  glass  of  wine  or  a 
measure  of  ale,"  taken  daily  for  a  year,  suffices  to 
produce  some  startling  effects  in  color ;  while  the 
result  of  "  unrestrained  indulgence  for  five  years " 
is  spectacular  in  the  extreme. 


200  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Besides  these  disconcerting  color  effects  Marcella 
enacted  a  brief  but  pithy  drama  in  which  she  touched 
a  lighted  match  to  a  tablespoonful  of  alcohol,  to 
show  the  true  nature  of  the  stuff  and  to  symbolize 
the  fate  of  its  votaries. 

With  charts  and  with  blazing  spirit,  with  tracts  and 
with  figures  to  prove  that  we  spend  "  more  for  the 
staff  of  death  than  for  the  staff  of  life,"  Marcella  was 
prepared  to  move  upon  the  unsuspicious  Miss  Caro 
line.  Nor  was  she  alone  in  such  readiness  for  a 
good  work.  The  ladies  all  felt  that  their  profligate 
sister  should  be  brought  to  sign  the  pledge. 

And  they  called  upon  Miss  Caroline  with  precisely 
this  end  in  view  —  called  singly,  and  by  twos  and 
threes.  But  for  some  reason  they  seemed  always 
to  find  obstacles  in  the  way  of  bringing  forward  this 
most  vital  topic.  If  they  had  only  discovered  Miss 
Caroline  in  her  cups,  or  if  her  shaded  rooms  had 
been  littered  with  empty  rum  bottles  and  pervaded 
by  the  fumes  of  strong  drink,  or  if  she  had  auda 
ciously  offered  them  wine,  doubtless  the  thing  would 
have  been  easy.  But  none  of  these  helpful  phenom 
ena  could  be  observed,  and  Miss  Caroline  had  a  way 
of  leading  the  talk  which  would  have  made  any 
reference  to  her  unfortunate  habits  seem  ungraceful. 
It  would  be  far  too  much  to  say  that  she  charmed 
them,  but  all  of  her  callers  were  interested,  many  of 
them  were  entertained,  and  a  few  became  her  warm 
defenders.  Aunt  Delia  McCormick  surprised  every 
one  by  aligning  herself  with  this  latter  minority.  She 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   SCANDAL   IS   RAISED     2OI 

declared,  after  her  first  call,  that  Miss  Caroline  was 
"  a  dear  " ;  and  after  the  second  call,  that  she  was 
"  a  poor  dear,"  and  she  forthwith  became  of  service 
to  the  newcomer  in  a  thousand  ways  known  only 
to  the  masonry  of  housekeeping. 

And  since  none  of  the  ladies,  for  one  reason  or 
another,  had  found  a  way  to  say  those  things  that 
Mrs.  Lansdale  sorely  needed  to  hear,  it  was  agreed 
among  them  that  the  minister  must  say  them. 

"The  minister"  in  Little  Arcady- meant  him  of 
the  Methodist  church,  the  two  other  clergymen  being 
so  young  and  unimportant  as  to  need  identification 
by  name. 

Of  the  official  and  inspired  visit  of  this  good  man 
to  Miss  Caroline,  the  version  that  reached  the  public 
was  one  thing :  its  secret  and  true  history  was  an 
other.  The  latter  has  never  been  told  until  now.  It 
was  known  abroad  only  that  the  minister  had  called 
on  a  warm  afternoon  in  July ;  that  Miss  Caroline  had 
received  him  out  of  doors,  on  the  shaded  east  side  of 
the  house,  where  the  heat  had  driven  her  to  await  a 
cooling  breeze  from  the  river.  One  of  the  dingy 
rugs  had  been  spread  upon  the  grass  close  to  the 
lilac  clump,  and  by  an  unfashionable  little  table  Miss 
Caroline  sat,  in  a  chair  sadly  out  of  date,  reading  of 
Childe  Harold.  It  was  understood  that  the  min 
ister  had  there  sat  in  another  antiquated  chair  of 
capacious  arms  and  upholstered  in  faded  green  vel 
vet,  a  chair  brought  by  Clem  ;  and  that  he  had  weakly 
chatted  away  a  pleasant  hour  or  two  without  ever 


202  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

once  daring  to  bring  Miss  Caroline's  evil  state  to  that 
attention  which  it  merited  from  her.  His  difficulty 
seemed  to  have  been  similar  to  that  experienced  by 
the  calling  ladies.  He  could  observe  no  opening  that 
promised  anything  but  an  ungracious  plunge  or  an 
awkward  stumble,  and  the  ladies  had  been  wrong  in 
suspecting  that  his  authority  as  a  cleric  would  nerve 
him  to  either  of  these  things. 

There  was  despair  next  day  when  it  was  known 
that  he  had  come  away  even  lavisher  in  praise  of 
Miss  Caroline  than  Aunt  Delia  had  become ;  that  he 
refused  with  a  gentle  but  unbreakable  stubbornness, 
a  thing  he  was  known  to  be  cursed  with  latently,  ever 
again  to  approach  the  lady  with  a  concealed  purpose  or 
with  aught  in  his  heart  but  a  warm  and  flagrant  esteem. 

So  much  for  the  public's  knowledge  ;  and  doubtless 
the  public  in  every  case  knows  all  that  it  ought  to 
know.  But  these  are  the  facts  as  they  came  to  my 
privileged  ears,  and  to  what,  I  believe,  are  gifts  of 
interpretation  not  below  the  average. 

When  Clem  brought  the  chair  for  the  minister, 
Miss  Caroline  gave  him  a  brief,  low-toned  order, 
which  he  hurried  away  to  execute.  Within  ten  min 
utes,  and  before  Miss  Caroline  had  finished  telling 
how  altogether  beautiful  she  found  Arcady  of  the 
Little  Country,  Clem  returned,  bearing  breast-high  a 
napkin-covered  tray,  from  which  towered  twin  pillars 
of  glass,  topped  with  fragrant  leafage  and  pierced 
each  by  a  yellow  straw.  This  tray  he  placed  upon 
the  table  beside  the  poems  of  Lord  Byron,  and  the 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   SCANDAL   IS   RAISED     203 

minister  permitted  himself  an  oblique  look  thereat, 
even  though  this  involved  deserting  the  eyes  of  his 
agreeable  hostess.  The  ice  in  the  glasses  tinkled  a 
brief  phrase  of  music,  the  tops  burgeoned  with  a  luxu 
riant  summer  green,  and  the  straws  were  of  a  sweetly 
pastoral  suggestiveness.  The  fragrance  moved  one 
to  the  heart  of  some  spice-scented  dell  where  a  brook 
let  purled  down  a  pebbled  course.  The  ensemble 
was  indeed  overwhelming  in  its  message  of  a  refresh 
ment  joyous,  satisfying,  timely,  and  of  a  consummate 
innocence. 

"  The  day  is  warm,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  receiving 
one  of  the  glasses  from  her  servant,  and  with  a  bright 
look  at  her  guest. 

"  It  is  intensely  warm,  and  quite  unusually  so  for 
this  time  of  year,"  said  the  minister,  absently  taking 
the  other  glass  now  proffered  him. 

"  We  shall  combat  it,"  said  Miss  Caroline  with  some 
vivacity.  She  delicately  applied  her  lips  to  the  straw, 
and  a  slight  depression  appeared  in  each  of  her  ac 
ceptable  cheeks. 

"  A  cooling  beverage  at  this  hour  is  most  grateful," 
said  the  minister,  rejoicing  in  the  icy  feel  of  the  glass, 
and  falling  hopefully  to  his  own  straw. 

"  Clem  makes  them  perfectly,"  said  Miss  Caroline. 

"  What  do  you  call  them  ? "  asked  the  minister. 
He  had  relinquished  his  straw,  and  his  kind  face 
shone  with  a  pleased  surprise. 

"Why,  mint  juleps,"  replied  Miss  Caroline,  glanc 
ing  quickly  up. 


204  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  Ah,  mint !  that  explains  it,"  said  the  minister 
with  satisfaction,  his  broad  face  clearing  of  a  slight 
bewilderment. 

"  Clem  found  a  beautiful  patch  of  it  by  a  spring 
half  a  mile  up  the  river,"  volunteered  Miss  Caroline, 
between  dainty  pulls  at  her  straw. 

"It  is  a  lovely  plant — a  lovely  plant,  indeed!" 
rejoined  the  minister,  for  a  moment  setting  down  his 
glass  to  wipe  his  brow.  "  I  remember  now  detecting 
the  same  fragrance  when  I  watered  my  horse  at  that 
spring.  But  I  did  not  dream  that  it  —  I  wonder  — 
he  broke  off,  taking  up  his  glass  —  "  that  its  virtues 
are  not  more  widely  apprehended.  I  have  never 
heard  that  an  acceptable  beverage  might  be  made 
from  it." 

"  Not  every  one  can  make  a  mint  julep  as  Clem 
can,"  said  his  hostess. 

A  moist  and  futile  splutter  from  the  bottom  of  the 
minister's  glass  was  his  only  reply. 

He  set  the  glass  back  on  the  table  with  a  pleasant 
speculation  showing  in  his  eyes.  The  talk  became 
again  animated.  Chiefly  the  minister  talked,  and  his 
hostess  found  him  most  companionable. 

"  Let  me  offer  you  another  julep,"  she  said,  after  a 
little,  noting  that  his  eyes  had  swept  the  empty  glass 
with  a  chastened  blankness.  The  minister  let  her. 

"  If  it  would  not  be  troubling  you  —  really  ?  The 
heat  is  excessive,  and  I  find  that  the  mint,  simple 
herb  though  it  be,  is  strangely  salutary." 

The  minister  was  a  man  of  years  and  weight  and 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   SCANDAL   IS    RAISED     205 

worth.  He  possessed  a  reliant  simplicity  that  put 
him  at  once  close  to  those  he  met.  Of  these,  by  his 
manner,  he  asked  all :  confidence  without  reserve, 
troubles,  doubts,  distresses,  material  or  otherwise. 
And  this  manner  of  his  prevailed.  The  hearts  of  his 
people  opened  to  him  as  freely  as  his  own  opened  to 
receive  them.  He  was  a  good  man  and,  partly  by 
reason  of  this  ingenuous,  unsuspicious  mind,  an  in 
valuable  instrument  of  grace. 

When  he  had  talked  to  Miss  Caroline  through  the 
second  julep,  —  digressing  only  to  marvel  briefly  again 
that  the  properties  of  mint  should  so  long  have  been 
Nature's  own  secret  in  Little  Arcady,  —  telling  her 
his  joys,  his  griefs,  his  interests,  which  were  but  the 
joys  and  griefs  and  interests  of  his  people,  he 
wrought  a  spell  upon  her  so  that  she  in  turn  became 
confiding. 

She  was  an  Episcopalian.  Her  line  had  been  born 
Episcopalians  since  a  time  whereof  no  data  were 
obtainable  ;  and  this  was,  of  course,  not  a  condition 
to  meddle  with  in  late  life,  even  if  one's  mind  should 
grow  consenting.  For  that  matter,  Miss  Caroline 
would  be  frank  and  pretend  to  no  change  of  mind. 
She  was  an  old  woman  and  fixed.  She  could  not  at 
this  day  free  herself  of  a  doubtless  incorrect  notion 
that  the  outside  churches  —  meaning  those  not  Epis 
copal  —  had  been  intended  for  people  other  than  her 
own  family  and  its  offshoots.  Clem  had  once  been  a 
Baptist,  and  it  was  true  that  he  was  now  a  Methodist. 
He  had  told  her  that  his  new  religion  was  distin- 


206  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

guished  from  the  old  by  being  "dry  religion."  But 
these  were  intricacies  with  which  a  woman  of  Miss 
Caroline's  years  could  not  be  expected  to  entangle 
herself.  This  she  would  say,  however,  that  during 
her  residence  in  Little  Arcady  she  would  fling  aside 
the  prejudice  of  a  lifetime  and  worship  each  Sabbath 
at  the  minister's  Methodist  church. 

It  did  not  seem  to  the  minister  that  she  said  it  as 
might  an  explorer  who  consents  for  a  time  to  adopt 
the  manner  and  customs  of  the  tribe  among  which 
a  spirit  of  adventure  has  led  him.  He  accepted  her 
implied  tribute  modestly  and  with  unaffected  gratifi 
cation,  again  wiping  his  brow  and  his  broad,  good 
face. 

When  I  joined  them  at  four  o'clock,  having  been 
moved  by  hope  of  a  cooling  chat  with  Miss  Caroline, 
the  minister  was  slightly  more  flushed,  I  thought, 
than  the  day  could  warrant.  He  was  about  to  leave, 
was,  in  fact,  concluding  his  choicest  anecdote  of 
"  Big  Joe  "  Kestril — for  he  was  a  man  who  met  all 
our  kinds.  "  Big  Joe,"  six  feet,  five,  a  tower  of 
muscled  brawn,  standing  on  a  corner,  pleasantly 
inebriated,  had  watched  go  feebly  by  the  totter 
ing,  palsied  form  of  little  old  Bolivar  Kent,  our 
most  aged  and  richest  man.  The  minister,  also 
passing,  had  observed  Kestril's  humorous  stare. 

"  The  big  fellow  called  to  me,"  he  was  saying  to 
Miss  Caroline  as  I  came  up.     "  '  Parson,'  said  he  — 
they  all  know  me  familiarly,  madam  — '  Parson,'  said 
he,  '  I  wish  I  could  take  all  I'm  worth  and  all  old 


THE   SPECTRE   OF   SCANDAL   IS   RAISED     207 

Kent  is  worth  and  put  it  in  a  bunch  on  the  sidewalk 
there  and  then  fight  the  old  cuss  for  it! ' ' 

It  was  a  favorite  anecdote  of  the  minister's,  but  I 
had  never  known  him  before  to  tell  it  to  a  lady  on 
the  occasion  of  his  first  call.  Miss  Caroline  laughed 
joyously  as  she  turned  to  greet  me. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  finely  I've  been  entertained," 
she  said  to  me. 

"  Nor  can  I  tell  him  for  myself,  madam,"  retorted 
the  minister.  I  thought  indeed  he  spoke  with  an 
effort  that  made  this  gallantry  seem  not  altogether 
baseless  in  fact. 

"  I  was  on  the  point  of  leaving,"  said  the  minister. 

"  Are  you  returning  home,  or  have  you  more  calls 
in  the  neighborhood  ?  "  I  asked,  feeling  just  a  tinge 
of  uneasiness  about  his  expansive  manner. 

"  No  more  calls,  no.  I  had  planned,  instead, 
a  pleasant  walk  up  along  the  riverside  to  a  spring 
some  distance  above.  I  mean  to  procure  a  supply  of 
this  delicious  mint — for  mint  juleps,"  he  added  affably. 

"  Come  with  me,"  I  urged.  I  was  about  to  walk 
out  myself.  Together  we  bade  adieu  to  Miss 
Caroline. 

But  the  minister's  walk  ended  at  my  own  door.  In 
the  cool  gloom  of  my  little  library  I  asked  him  if  he 
would  be  good  enough  to  excuse  me  a  moment, 
indicating  the  broad  couch  beneath  the  window. 

"  With  pleasure,  Major!  "  and  he  sank  among  the 
restful  pillows.  "  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  the  heat 
has  rendered  me  a  trifle  indolent." 


208  THE   BOSS  OF  LITTLE  ARCADY 

When  I  came  softly  back  five  minutes  later,  he  lay 
in  deep  slumber,  his  face  cherubically  innocent,  his 
breathing  soft  as  a  babe's.  He  awoke  freshly  two 
hours  later.  He  apologized  for  his  rudeness  and 
expressed  a  wish  for  a  glass  of  cool  water.  Three 
of  these  he  drank  with  evidences  of  profound  relish. 
Then  he  drew  his  large  silver  watch  from  his  pocket. 

"  On  my  word,  Major,  it's  after  six,  and  I  shall 
be  late  for  tea !  I  have  trespassed  shamefully  upon 
you !  " 

"The  heat  was  very  trying,"  I  said. 

"  Quite  enervating,  indeed !  I  seem  only  now  to 
be  feeling  its  effects." 

As  he  walked  briskly  down  the  now  cooling  street, 
he  bared  his  brow  to  the  gentle  breeze  of  evening. 

To  the  ladies,  solicitous  about  Miss  Caroline,  who 
called  upon  him  a  few  days  later,  he  said,  "  She  is  a 
most  admirable  and  lovely  woman  —  not  at  all  a 
person  one  could  bring  one's  self  to  address  on  the 
painful  subject  of  intoxicants.  Had  she  offered  me 
a  glass  of  wine  or  other  stimulant,  a  way  might  have 
been  opened,  but  I  am  delighted  to  say  that  her 
hospitality  went  no  farther  than  this  innocent  bever 
age."  The  minister  indicated  on  his  study  table  a 
glass  containing  sweetened  ice-water  in  which  some 
leaves  of  mint  had  been  submerged. 

"  It  is  called  a  mint  julep,"  he  added,  "  though  I 
confess  I  do  not  get  the  same  delicate  tang  from  the 
herb  that  her  black  fellow  does.  As  he  prepared  the 
decoction  I  assure  you  its  flavor  was  capital !  " 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  SHAKSPERE  AT  LAST 

Miss  CAROLINE  dutifully  returned  the  calls  that  were 
paid  her,  with  never  a  suspicion  that  her  slavery  to 
strong  drink  had  been  the  secret  inspiration  of  them. 
She  was  not  yet  awake  to  our  sentiments  in  this  matter. 
She  had  given  strong  waters  to  the  minister  with  a 
heart  as  innocent  as  their  disguise  of  ice  and  leafage 
had  made  them  actually  appear  to  that  good  man. 
And  I,  who  was  well  informed,  hesitated  to  warn  her, 
hoping  weakly  that  she  would  come  to  understand. 
For  I  had  seen  there  were  many  things  that  Miss 
Caroline  had  not  to  be  told  in  order  to  know. 

For  one,  she  had  quickly  divined  that  the  ladies 
of  Little  Arcady  considered  her  furniture  to  be  un 
fortunate.  She  knew  that  they  scorned  it  for  its 
unstylishness ;  that  some  of  them  sympathized  in  the 
humiliation  that  such  impossible  stuff  must  be  to  her ; 
while  others  believed  that  she  was  too  unsophisticated 
to  have  any  proper  shame  in  the  matter.  These  latter 
strove  by  every  device  to  have  her  note  the  right  thing 
in  furniture  and  thus  be  moved  to  contrast  it  instruc 
tively  with  her  own :  as  when  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson 
borrowed  for  an  afternoon  Aunt  Delia  McCormick's 
best  blue  plush  rocker,  Mrs.  Westley  Keyts's  new  sofa, 

209 


210  THE    BOSS    OF    LITTLE   ARCADY 

upholstered  with  gorgeous  ingrain,  and  Mrs.  Eubanks's 
new  black  walnut  combination  desk  and  bookcase 
with  brass  trimmings  and  little  spindled  balconies,  in 
which  could  be  elegantly  placed  the  mineral  speci 
mens  picked  up  along  the  river  bank,  and  the  twin 
statuettes  of  the  fluting  shepherd  and  his  inamorata. 
As  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson  herself  possessed  new  and 
high-priced  furniture,  including  a  gold-and-onyx  stand 
to  occupy  the  bay  window  and  uphold  the  Rogers 
group,  "  Going  for  the  Parson,"  as  well  as  two 
fragile  gilt  chairs,  which  considerate  guests  would 
not  sit  in  but  leave  exposed  to  view,  and  a  complete 
new  set  of  black  walnut,  the  effect  that  day —  which 
included  a  grand  smell  of  varnish  —  was  nothing  less 
than  sumptuous. 

The  occasion  was  a  semi-monthly  meeting  of  the 
Ladies'  Home  Study  and  Culture  Club,  at  which  Miss 
Caroline  was  to  be  present.  There  had  been  a  sus 
pension  of  the  Club's  meetings  while  Mrs.  Potts  was 
in  abeyance,  but  on  this  day  she  was  to  enter  the 
world  again  and  preside  over  the  meeting  as  "  Madam 
President,"  though  the  ladies  sometimes  forgot  to  call 
her  this. 

The  paper  read  by  Mrs.  Potts  —  who  was  not  at 
all  ineffective  in  her  black  —  was  on  "The  Lake 
Poets,"  with  a  few  pointed  selections  from  Words 
worth  and  others. 

Whether  or  not  Miss  Caroline  was  rightly  impressed 
by  the  furniture  exhibit  was  a  question  not  easy  to 
determine.  True,  she  stared  at  it  with  something  in 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  SHAKSPERE  AT  LAST  211 

her  eyes  beyond  a  mere  perception  of  its  lines ;  but 
whether  this  were  the  longing  passion  of  an  awakened 
soul  or  the  simple  awe  of  the  unenlightened  was  not 
to  be  ascertained  at  the  moment. 

Testimony  as  to  her  enjoyment  of  the  President's 
paper  was  more  circumstantial.  In  the  midst  of  this, 
as  the  listeners  were  besought  to  "  dwell  a  moment  on 
this  exquisite  delineation  of  Nature,"  —expertly  pro 
nounced  "  Nate-your  "  by  Mrs.  Potts,  —  Miss  Caroline 
turned  her  head  aside  as  one  deeply  moved  by  the 
poet's  magic.  But  Marcella  Eubanks,  glancing  at 
that  moment  into  a  mirror  on  the  opposite  wall,  —  a 
mirror  in  a  plush  frame  on  which  pansies  had  been 
painted,  —  caught  the  full  and  frank  exposure  of  a 
yawn.  It  was  a  thorough  yawn.  Miss  Caroline  had 
surrendered  abjectly  to  it,  in  the  belief  —  unrecking 
the  mirror  —  that  she  could  not  be  detected. 

The  discussion  that  followed  the  paper  —  as  was 
customary  at  the  meetings  —  proved  to  be  a  bit 
livelier.  Each  lady  said  something  she  had  thought 
up  to  say,  beginning,  "  Does  it  not  seem  —  "  or  "Are 
we  not  forced  to  conclude  — 

I  suspect  that  Miss  Caroline  was  sleepy.  Perhaps 
she  was  nettled  by  the  boredom  she  had  been  made 
to  endure  without  just  provocation  ;  perhaps  the  fash 
ionable  fumes  of  varnish  had  been  toxic  to  her  unac 
customed  senses.  At  any  rate  she  now  compromised 
herself  regrettably. 

Mrs.  Westley  Keyts  had  been  thinking  up  some 
thing  to  say,  something  choice  that  should  yet  be 


212  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

sufficiently  vague  not  to  incriminate  her.  It  had 
seemed  that  these  requirements  would  be  met  if 
she  said,  in  a  tone  of  easy  patronage,  "  Mr.  Words 
worth  is  certainly  a  very  bright  writer  of  poetry,  but 
as  for  me  —  give  me  Shakspere  !  " 

She  had  thought  of  saying  "  the  Bard  of  Avon,"  a 
polished  phrase  coined  for  his  "  Compendium  "  by  the 
ingenious  Mr.  Gaskell ;  but,  hearing  her  own  voice 
strangely  break  the  silence,  Mrs.  Keyts  became  timid 
at  the  last  moment  and  let  it  go  at  "  Shakspere." 

"Oh,  Shakspere  —  of  course!"  said  most  of  the 
ladies  at  once,  and  those  not  quick  enough  to  utter 
it  concertedly  looked  it  almost  reprovingly  at  the 
speaker. 

A  silence  fell,  as  if  every  one  must  have  time  to 
recover  from  this  trivial  platitude.  But  it  was  a 
silence  outrageously  shattered  by  Miss  Caroline,  who 
said :  — 

"O  dear!  I've  always  considered  Shakspere  such 
an  overrated  man  !  " 

The  silence  grew  more  intense,  only  Mrs.  Potts 
emitting  a  slight  but  audible  gasp.  But  swift  looks 
flashed  from  each  lady  to  her  horrified  sisters.  Was 
it  possible  that  the  unfortunate  woman  had  been  in 
no  condition  to  come  among  them  ? 

"  Oh,  a  greatly  overrated  man  !  "  repeated  Miss 
Caroline,  terribly,  "  far  too  wordy  —  too  fond  of 
wretched  puns  —  so  much  of  his  humor  coarse  and 
tiresome.  By  the  way,  have  you  ladies  taken  up 
Byron  ? " 


THE   TRUTH   ABOUT   SHAKSPERE   AT   LAST     213 

The  moment  was  charged,  almost  to  explosion. 
A  crisis  impended,  out  of  the  very  speechlessness  of 
the  gathering.  Mrs.  Potts  was  aghast  in  behalf  of 
William  Shakspere,  and  Marcella  Eubanks  was  crim 
soning  at  the  blunt  query  about  Byron,  well  knowing 
that  he  could  be  taken  up  by  a  lady  only  with  the  wariest 
caution,  and  that  he  would  much  better  be  let  alone. 
The  others  were  torn  demoralizingly  between  these 
two  extremes  of  distress. 

But  the  situation  was  saved  by  the  ready  wit  of 
Mrs.  Judge  Robinson. 

"  I  think  the  hour  has  come  for  refreshments, 
Madam  President !  "  she  said  urbanely,  and  the  meet 
ing  was  nervously  adjourned.  Under  the  animation 
thus  induced  an  approximate  equilibrium  was  restored. 
The  ladies  gulped  down  chicken  salad,  many  of  them 
using  forks  with  black  thread  tied  about  them  to  show 
they  were  borrowed  from  Mrs.  Eubanks.  They  drank 
lemonade  from  a  fine  glass  pitcher  that  had  come  as 
a  gratuitous  mark  of  esteem  from  the  tea  merchant 
patronized  by  the  hostess ;  and  they  congealed  them 
selves  pleasantly  with  vanilla  ice-cream  eaten  from 
dishes  of  excellent  pressed  glass  that  had  come  one 
by  one  as  the  Robinson  family  consumed  its  baking 
powder. 

But  Miss  Caroline  would  have  been  dense  indeed 
had  she  not  divined,  even  amid  that  informal  babbling, 
that  she  was  being  viewed  by  the  ladies  of  the  Club 
with  a  shocked  stupefaction. 

Precisely  what  emotion    this  knowledge  left  with 


214  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

her  I  have  never  known.  But  I  do  know  that  before 
the  meeting  broke  up,  it  had  been  agreed  to  hold  the 
next  one  at  the  house  of  Miss  Caroline  herself.  It 
may  be  that  she  suggested  and  urged  this  in  pure 
desperation,  wishing  to  regain  a  favor  which  she  had 
felt  unaccountably  withdrawn ;  and  it  may  be  that 
the  ladies  accepted  in  a  similar  desperation,  knowing 
not  how  to  inform  her  that  she  was  grossly  ineligible 
for  membership  in  a  Home  Study  Club. 

The  intervening  two  weeks  were  filled  with  tales 
and  talks  of  Miss  Caroline's  heresy.  Excitement  and 
adverse  criticism  were  almost  universally  aroused. 
It  was  a  scandal  of  proportions  almost  equal  to  that 
of  her  love  for  strong  drink.  About  most  writers  one 
could  be  permitted  to  have  an  opinion.  But  it  was 
not  thought  that  one  could  properly  have  an  opinion 
about  Shakspere,  and,  so  far  as  we  knew,  no  one  had 
ever  before  subjected  him  to  this  indignity.  One 
might  as  well  have  an  opinion  about  Virtue  or  the 
law  of  gravitation.  An  opinion  of  any  sort  was  im 
possible.  One  favorable  would  be  puny,  futile,  im 
modestly  patronizing.  An  unfavorable  opinion  had 
heretofore  not  been  within  realms  of  the  idlest  specu 
lation. 

There  were  but  two  of  us,  I  believe,  who  did  not 
promptly  condemn  Miss  Caroline's  violence  of  speech 
—  two  men  of  varying  parts.  Westley  Keyts  frankly 
said  he  had  never  been  able  to  "  get  into  "  Shakspere, 
and  considered  it,  as  a  book  for  reading  purposes,  in 
ferior  to  "Cudjo's  Cave,"  which  he  had  read  three 


THE   TRUTH   ABOUT   SHAKSPERE   AT   LAST     215 

times.  The  minister,  whose  church  Miss  Caroline 
now  patronized,  —  that  term  being  chosen  after  some 
deliberation,  —  held  up  both  his  hands  at  the  news 
and  mildly  exclaimed,  "  Well !  "  Then,  after  a  pause, 
"  Well,  well !  "  And  still  again,  after  another  pause, 
"Well,  well,  well!" 

This  was  thought  to  be  shifty  and  evasive  —  cer 
tainly  not  so  outspoken  as  the  town  had  a  right  to 
expect. 

Solon  Denney,  though  in  his  heart  true  to  Shak- 
spere,  affected  to  be  gleeful.  A  paragraph,  mysteri 
ous  to  many,  including  Miss  Caroline,  appeared  in  the 
ensuing  Argus:  — 

"  An  encounter  long  supposed  by  scientists  to  be  a 
mere  metaphysical  abstraction  of  almost  playful  im 
port  has  at  last  occurred  in  sober  physics.  The 
irresistible  force  has  met  up  with  the  immovable 
body.  We  look  for  results  next  week." 

I  knew  that  Solon  considered  Miss  Caroline  to  be 
an  irresistible  force.  I  was  uncertain  whether  Shak- 
spere  or  Mrs.  Potts  was  meant  by  the  immovable 
body.  I  knew  that  he  held  them  in  equal  awe, 
and  I  knew  that  Mrs.  Potts  felt,  in  a  way,  respon 
sible  for  Shakspere  this  far  west  of  Boston,  regard 
ing  any  attack  upon  him  as  a  personal  affront  to 
herself. 

On  the  day  of  the  next  meeting  the  ladies  of  the 
Club  gathered  in  the  dingy  and  inelegant  drawing- 
room  of  Miss  Caroline.  No  vividly  flowered  carpet 
decked  the  floor ;  only  a  time-toned  rug  that  left  the 


2l6  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

outer  edge  of  the  floor  untidily  exposing  its  dull  stain ; 
no  gilt  and  onyx  table  bore  its  sculptured  fantasy  by 
the  busy  Rogers.  The  mantel  and  shelves  were  bare 
of  those  fixed  ornaments  that  should  decorate  the 
waste  places  of  all  true  homes ;  there  were  no  flint 
arrow-heads,  no  "  specimens,"  no  varnished  pine  cones, 
no  "  Rock  of  Ages,"  no  waxen  lilies,  not  even  a  china 
cup  goldenly  emblazoned  with  "  Love  the  Giver,"  in 
German  script.  And  there  were  no  beautiful  chairs 
with  delicate  gilded  spindles  —  not  an  elegant  and 
impracticable  chair  in  the  whole  big  room  —  not  one 
chair  which  could  not  be  occupied  as  comfortably  as 
any  common  kitchen  rocker.  It  was  indeed  a  poor 
place ;  obviously  the  woman's  best  room,  yet  showing 
careless  traces  of  almost  daily  use.  To  ladies  who 
never  opened  their  best  rooms  save  to  dust  and  air 
them  on  days  when  company  was  expected,  and  who 
would  as  soon  have  lounged  in  them  informally  as 
they  would  have  desecrated  a  church,  this  laxity  was 
heinous. 

And  ordinarily,  in  the  best  rooms  of  one  another, 
the  ladies  became  spontaneously,  rigidly  formal  as 
they  assembled,  speaking  in  tones  suitably  stiff  of 
the  day's  paper,  or  viewing  with  hushed  esteem  those 
art  treasures  that  surrounded  them. 

But  so  difficult  was  it  to  attain  this  formality  amid 
the  homely  surroundings  of  Miss  Caroline  that  to-day 
they  not  only  lounged  with  negligent  ease  in  the  big 
chairs  and  on  the  poor,  broad  sofas,  but  they  talked 
familiarly  of  their  household  concerns  quite  as  if 


THE   TRUTH   ABOUT    SHAKSPERE   AT   LAST     217 

they  had  been  in  one  of  their  own  second-best  rooms 
on  any  common  day. 

On  a  table  in  one  cool  corner  was  a  huge  bowl  of 
thin  silver,  whence  issued  a  baffling  fragrance.  Dis 
creet  observation,  as  the  throng  gathered,  revealed 
this  to  contain  a  large  block  of  ice  and  a  colored 
liquid  in  which  floated  cherries  with  slices  of  lemon 
and  orange.  A  ladle  of  generous  lines  reposed  in 
the  bowl,  and  circling  it  on  the  table  were  many  small 
cups. 

There  was  a  feeling  of  relief  when  these  details 
had  been  ascertained.  Fear  had  been  felt  that  Miss 
Caroline  might  forget  herself  and  offer  them  a  glass 
of  wine,  or  something  worse,  from  a  large  black 
bottle  ;  for  Little  Arcady  believed,  in  its  innocent 
remoteness,  that  the  devil's  stuff  came  in  no  other 
way  than  large  black  bottles.  Miss  Eubanks  had 
made  sure  that  the  ladies  wore  their  white  ribbons. 
Marcella's  own  satin  bow  was  larger  than  common, 
so  that  no  one  might  mistake  the  principles  of  the 
heart  beating  beneath  it. 

But  the  cool  big  bowl  with  its  harmless  fruit 
restored  confidence  at  once,  and  when  Miss  Caroline 
urged  them  to  try  Clem's  punch  they  refrained  not. 
The  walk  to  the  north  end  of  town  on  a  sultry  after 
noon  had  qualified  them  to  receive  its  consolations, 
and  they  gathered  gratefully  about. 

Marcella  Eubanks  quaffed  the  first  beaker,  a  trifle 
timorously,  it  is  true,  for  the  word  "  punch  "  had 
stirred  within  her  a  vague  memory  of  sinister  asso- 


218  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

ciations.  Sometime  she  had  read  a  tale  in  which 
one  Howard  Melville  had  gone  to  the  great  city  and 
wrecked  a  career  of  much  promise  by  accepting  a 
glass  of  something  from  the  hands  of  a  beautiful 
but  thoughtless  girl,  pampered  child  of  the  banker 
with  whom  he  had  secured  a  position.  For  a  dread 
moment  Marcella  seemed  to  recall  that  the  fatal 
draught  was  named  "  punch."  But  after  a  tentative 
sip  of  the  compound  at  hand,  she  decided  that  it  must 
have  been  something  else  —  doubtless  "a  glass  of 
sparkling  wine."  For  this  punch  before  her  was 
palpably  of  a  babe's  innocence.  Indeed  it  tasted 
rather  like  an  inferior  lemonade.  But  it  was  cold, 
and  Marcella  tossed  off  a  second  cup  of  it.  She 
could  make  better  lemonade  herself,  and  she  mur 
mured  slightingly  of  the  stuff  to  Aunt  Delia 
McCormick. 

"  It  wants  more  lemons  and  more  sugar,"  said 
Marcella,  firmly.  Aunt  Delia  pressed  back  the  white 
satin  bow  on  her  bosom  in  order  to  manage  her 
second  glass  with  entire  safety. 

"  I  don't  know,  Marcella,"  she  said  in  a  dreamy 
undertone,  after  draining  the  cup  to  its  cherry.  "  I 
don't  know  —  it  does  seem  to  take  hold,  for  all  it 
tastes  so  trifling." 

As  each  lady  arrived  she  was  led  to  the  punch 
bowl.  When  the  last  one  had  been  taught  the  way 
to  that  cool  nook,  there  was  a  pleasant  hum  of  voices 
in  the  room.  There  was  still  an  undercurrent  of 
difference  as  to  the  punch's  merit  —  other  than  mere 


THE   TRUTH   ABOUT   SHAKSPERE   AT   LAST     219 

coolness;  though  Miss  Eubanks  now  agreed  with 
Aunt  Delia  that  it  possessed  virtues  not  to  be  dis 
cerned  in  the  first  careless  draught.  The  conversa 
tion  continued  to  be  general,  to  the  immense  delight 
of  the  hostess,  for  she  had  dreaded  the  ordeal  of  that 
formal  opening,  with  its  minutes  of  the  last  meeting ; 
and  she  had  dared  even  to  hope  that  the  day's  paper 
might,  by  tactful  management,  be  averted. 

She  waxed  more  daringly  hopeful  when  Clem  came 
to  refill  the  punch-bowl.  She  felt  that  she  owed 
much  to  the  heat  of  the  day,  which  was  insuring  the 
thirst  of  the  arrivals.  The  punch  and  general  con 
versation  seemed  to  suffice  them  even  after  their 
first  thirst  had  been  allayed.  She  began  to  wonder 
if  the  ladies  were  not  a  more  unbending  and  genial 
lot  than  she  had  once  suspected. 

A  considerable  group  of  them  now  chatted  viva 
ciously  about  the  replenished  bowl,  including  Madam 
the  President,  who  had  arrived  very  thirsty  indeed, 
and  who  was  now,  between  sips,  accounting  for  the 
singular  favor  which  the  Adams  family  had  always 
found  in  the  sight  of  God  and  the  people  of  Mas 
sachusetts.  She  seemed  to  be  prevailed  over,  not 
without  difficulty,,  by  Aunt  Delia,  who  related  her 
failure  to  learn  from  Clem  the  ingredients  of  his 
acceptable  punch.  This  was  not  surprising,  for  Clem 
was  either  never  able  or  never  willing  to  tell  how  he 
made  anything  whatever.  Of  this  punch  Aunt  Delia 
had  been  able  to  wheedle  from  him  only  that  it 
contained  "  some  little  fixin's."  Insistent  question- 


220  THE    BOSS    OF    LITTLE   ARCADY 

ing  did  develop,  further,  that  "  cold  tea  "  was  one 
of  these;  but  cold  tea  did  not  make  plain  its  rec 
ondite  potencies  —  did  not  explain  why  a  beverage 
so  unassuming  to  the  taste  should  inspire  one  with  a 
wish  to  partake  of  it  continuously. 

"  We  might  get  him  to  make  a  barrel  of  it  for  the 
Sunday-school  picnic,"  said  Marcella,  brightly,  over 
her  fourth  cup.  "  If  it  contains  only  a  little  tea, 
perhaps  the  effect  upon  the  children  would  not  be 
deleterious." 

"We'll  try  it,"  said  Aunt  Delia,  reaching  for  the 
ladle  at  sight  of  empty  cups  in  the  hands  of  Mrs. 
Judge  Robinson  and  Mrs.  Westley  Keyts.  "/'//fur 
nish  the  cherries  and  the  sugar  and  the  tea." 

How  it  came  about  was  never  quite  understood  by 
the  ladies,  but  the  true  and  formal  note  of  a  Ladies' 
Home  Study  Club  was  never  once  struck  that  after 
noon.  Madam  the  President  did  not  call  the  meet 
ing  to  order,  the  minutes  of  the  last  meeting  are 
unread  to  this  day,  and  a  motion  to  adjourn  never 
became  necessary. 

It  had  been  thought  wisest  to  keep  entirely  away 
from  poetry  at  this  meeting,  and  the  paper  for  the 
day,  to  have  been  read  by  Marcella  Eubanks,  was 
"The  Pathos  of  Charles  Dickens."  Marcella  had 
taken  unusual  pains  in  its  preparation,  bringing  with 
her  two  volumes  of  the  author  from  which  to  read 
at  the  right  moment  the  deaths  of  Little  Nell  and 
Paul  Dombey.  She  had  practised  these  until  she 
could  make  her  voice  quaver  effectively,  and  she  had 


looked  forward  to  a  genuine  ovation  when  she  sat 
down. 

If  it  is  clearly  understood,  then,  that  no  one 
thought  of  calling  for  the  paper,  that  even  its  proud 
author  felt  the  hours  gliding  by  without  any  poign 
ant  regret,  it  should  be  seen  that  the  occasion  had 
strangely  come  to  be  one  of  pure  and  joyous  relaxa 
tion,  with  never  an  instructive  or  cultured  or  studious 
moment. 

There  was  talk  of  domestic  concerns,  sprightly 
town  gossip,  mirth,  wit,  and  anecdotes.  Aunt  Delia 
McCormick  told  her  parrot  story,  which  was  risqtrf, 
even  when  no  gentlemen  were  present,  for  the  parrot 
said  "  damn  it !  "  in  the  course  of  his  surprisingly 
human  repartee  under  difficulties. 

Mrs.  Westley  Keyts,  the  bars  being  down,  there 
upon  began  another  parrot  story.  But  Miss  Eu- 
banks,  who  had  observed  that  all  parrot  stories  have 
"damn"  in  them,  suddenly  conceived  that  matters 
had  gone  far  enough  in  that  direction.  Affecting  not 
to  have  heard  Mrs.  Keyts's  opening  of  "  A  returned 
missionary  made  a  gift  of  a  parrot  to  two  elderly 
maiden  ladies  —  "  Marcella  led  the  would-be  anecdot- 
ist  to  the  punch-bowl,  and,  under  the  cover  of  opera 
tions  there,  spoke  to  her  in  an  undertone.  Mrs.  Keyts 
said  that  the  thing  had  been  printed  right  out  on  the 
funny  page  of  "  Hearth  and  Home,"  but  over  the 
cup  of  punch  that  Marcella  pressed  upon  her,  she 
consented  to  forego  it  on  account  of  the  minister's 
wife  being  present. 


222  THE    BOSS   OF    LITTLE    ARCADY 

There  were  other  anecdotes,  however ;  not  of  a 
parrot  character,  but  chiefly  of  funny  sayings  of  the 
little  ones  at  home.  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson,  with  the 
artistic  mendacity  of  your  true  raconteur,  accredited  to 
her  own  four-year-old  a  speech  about  the  stars  being 
holes  in  the  floor  of  heaven,  although  it  was  said  of 
this  gem  in  "  Harper's  Drawer,"  where  she  had  read 
it,  that  "  the  following  good  one  comes  to  us  from  a 
lady  subscriber  in  the  well-known  city  of  X — ." 

It  could  not  be  recalled  afterwards  how,  from  this 
harmless  exchange,  they  had  come  to  be  listening  to 
passages  from  the  adventurous  life  of  Childe  Harold, 
read  crisply  by  their  hostess.  Still  less  could  the 
ladies  later  comprehend  how  some  of  their  number 
had  been  guilty  of  innuendos  —  or  worse  —  against 
the  well-known  Bard  of  Avon.  Yet  so  it  was. 

Miss  Caroline  herself  had  refrained  from  abusing 
him  —  had  seemed  to  have  forgotten  him,  indeed; 
but  as  she  read  Byron  to  them,  their  hearts  opened  to 
her  —  rushed  out,  indeed,  with  a  friendly  wholeness 
that  demanded  something  more  than  mere  cordial 
applause  of  her  favorite  poet.  Some  intimation  of  a 
sympathy  with  her  view  of  the  other  poet  came  to 
seem  not  ungraceful.  During  one  of  the  reader's 
pauses  to  impress  upon  them  the  splendors  of  the 
Byronic  imagery,  and  eke  its  human  heart-warmth, 
good  Aunt  Delia,  with  defiant  looks  about  the  circle, 
broke  in  with  :  — 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Shakspere  has  been  made 
too  much  over." 


THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  SHAKSPERE  AT  LAST  223 

Mrs.  Keyts  stepped  loyally  into  the  breach  thus 
effected. 

"Westley  thinks  Shakspere  isn't  such  an  awful 
good  book,"  she  said,  feeling  her  way,  "  though  it 
seems  to  me  it  has  some  very  interesting  and  excel 
lent  pieces  in  it." 

"  Shakspere  is  ver-ry  uneven,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Judge  Robinson,  in  a  tone  of  dignified  concession. 

"  There  is  always  a  word  to  be  said  on  either  side 
of  these  matters  —  there  is  undeniably  room  for  con 
troversy."  Thus  Mrs.  Potts,  in  her  best  manner  of 
authority,  from  the  punch-bowl. 

"  Let  the  dead  rest !  "  gently  murmured  Miss  Eu- 
banks,  from  her  dreamy  corner  of  the  biggest  sofa. 
Her  inflection  was  archly  significant.  One  had  to 
suspect  that  Shakspere,  alive  and  a  fair  target  for  dis 
praise,  might  have  learned  something  to  his  advan 
tage  if  not  to  his  delight. 

Miss  Caroline  was  both  surprised  and  gratified. 
At  the  previous  meeting  she  had  detected  no  sign  of 
this  concurring  sentiment.  She  plunged  again  into 
Byron  with  renewed  enthusiasm. 

The  afternoon  came  to  a  glorious  end,  and  the 
ladies  departed  with  many  expressions  of  rejoicing. 
They  had  found  Miss  Caroline  so  charming  that  sev 
eral  of  them  were  torn  with  fresh  pity  and  brought 
to  the  verge  of  tears  when  they  thought  of  her  fur 
niture. 

Marcella  Eubanks  did  cry  on  the  way  home  and 
had  to  put  down  her  green  barege  veil.  But  that 


224  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

was  for  thinking  of  poor  little  Paul  Dombey.  She 
was  mourning  him  as  a  personal  loss.  Also  must 
she  have  adored  the  genius  of  a  master  who  could 
thus  move  her  from  a  calm  that  was  constitutional 
with  every  known  Eubanks. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

IN    WHICH    THE    GAME    WAS    PLAYED 

THE  next  Argus  said  of  Miss  Caroline's  afternoon 
that  "  the  ladies  present  one  and  all  report  a  most  en 
joyable  time."  There  was  another  mysterious  para 
graph,  too,  farther  down  the  column  of  "  locals," 
which  proclaimed  that  "  The  immovable  body  has  at 
last  been  struck  by  the  irresistible  force  and  has 
failed  to  live  up  to  its  reputation.  It  moved  and 
moved  so  you  could  see  it  move.  Another  bubble 
exploded !  We  live  in  a  sensational  age." 

Now,  while  it  is  true  that  the  ladies,  "one  and 
all,"  had  spoken  with  entire  enthusiasm  of  their 
afternoon  at  the  unpretentious  home  of  my  neighbor, 
I  nevertheless  deemed  it  vital  to  hold  plain  speech 
with  that  impulsive  woman  immediately.  I  saw, 
indeed,  that  I  should  have  acted  after  the  incident  of 
the  mint  juleps. 

Solon  Denney,  who  had  experienced  the  hos 
pitality  of  Miss  Caroline,  and  who  could  speak  from 
a  wider  knowledge  than  our  minister  or  the  ladies  of 
the  town,  had  once  said :  — 

"  Those  mint   juleps    are    simple,   honest   things. 

They  taste  injurious  from  the  start.     But  that  punch 

—  it's  hypocritical.    It  steals  into  your  brain  as  a  little 

225 


226  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

child  steals  its  rosebud  hand  into  yours,  beguiling  you 
with  prattle ;  but  afterwards  —  well,  if  I  had  the 
choice,  I'd  rather  be  chloroformed  and  struck  sharply 
with  an  axe.  I'd  be  my  old  self  again  sooner." 
Whereupon  he  would  have  written  a  guarded  piece 
for  the  paper  about  this  had  I  not  dissuaded  him. 
But  I  saw  that  I  must  at  once  have  with  Miss  Caro 
line  what  in  a  later  day  came  to  be  called  "  a  heart-to- 
heart  talk  "  ;  and  I  forthwith  summoned  what  valor 
I  could  for  the  ordeal. 

"I  never  dreamed — I  never  suspected  —  how 
should  I  ? "  she  murmured  pathetically,  after  my 
opening  speech  of  a  few  simple  but  telling  phrases. 
She  listened  in  genuine  horror  while  I  gave  the  rea 
sons  why  she  might  justly  regard  the  call  of  our 
minister  and  her  entertainment  of  the  Club  as  noth 
ing  short  of  adventures  —  adventures  which  she  had 
survived  scathless  not  but  by  the  favor  of  an  indul 
gent  Providence. 

"  So  that  is  what  those  little  white  satin  bows 
mean  ?  "  she  asked,  and  I  said  that  it  most  emphati 
cally  was. 

"  I  suspected  it  might  be  some  kind  of  mourning 
for  babies  —  a  local  custom,  you  know,  though  it  did 
seem  queer.  What  can  they  think  of  me  ? " 

"They  don't  know  what  to  think  now,"  I  said, 
"  and  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  never  let  them  know." 

"The  Colonel  was  proud  of  that  punch,"  she 
mused. 

"  I  dare  say  he  had  reasons,"  I  answered  grimly. 


IN  WHICH   THE   GAME   WAS   PLAYED        227 

"  Especially  after  Cousin  Looshe  Peavey  came  to 
spend  Christmas  with  us  one  time.  The  Colonel  had 
always  considered  Cousin  Looshe  rather  arrogant 
about  this  punch,  and  it  may  have  been  a  special 
brew.  I  know  that  Cousin  had  an  immense  respect 
for  it  after  he  was  able  —  that  is  —  afterwards  — 

"  I  can  easily  believe  it." 

"  Cherry  brandy  —  Jamaica  rum  —  pint  of  Madeira 
—  gill  of   port  —  a  bit  of    cordial  —  some  sherry  — 
I  forget  if  there's  anything  else." 

I  grasped  the  chair  in  which  I  sat. 

"Heaven  forbid!"  I  cried;  "  and  don't  tell  me, 
anyway  —  I'm  reeling  now." 

"  But  of  course  there  are  lemons  and  oranges  and 
cherries  and  tea  and  quantities  of  ice  to  weaken  it  — 

"  The  whole  frozen  polar  sea  itself  couldn't  weaken 
that  mixture  of  elemental  forces.  See  to  it,"  I  went 
on  sternly,  "  that  you  remember  only  the  innocent 
parts  of  it  if  you  are  ever  asked  for  the  recipe.'1 
She  actually  cowered. 

"  Also  as  to  mint  juleps  —  remember  that  you  have 
forgotten,  if  you  ever  knew  how  they  are  made." 

"Dear,  dear — and  our  Bishop  did  enjoy  his  mint 
julep  so!" 

"That's  different,"  I  said;  "they  were  probably 
raised  together." 

"  And  that  afternoon,  I  thought  something  of  the 
sort  was  necessary ;  do  you  know,  they  seemed  rather 
cold  to  me  at  that  other  meeting  —  and  of  course  there 
wasn't  enough  of  it  to  hurt  them." 


228  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  Your  intentions  were  amiable,  I  concede,  but 
your  carelessness  was  criminal  —  nothing  short  of 
it.  You  laid  the  train  for  a  scandal  that  would 
have  shaken  Slocum  County  to  its  remotest  outly 
ing  cornfield,  and  even  made  itself  felt  over  this 
whole  sovereign  state." 

I  was  gratified  to  see  that  she  shuddered. 

"  I  shall  never  learn,"  she  pleaded ;  "  their  life  is 
so  different." 

"  Let  them  at  least  live  it  out  to  its  natural  end, 
such  as  it  is,"  I  urged. 

Hereupon,  confessing  herself  unnerved,  Miss 
Caroline  led  me  to  the  dining  room,  and  in  a  glass 
of  Madeira  from  a  cask  forwarded  by  Second-cousin 
Colonel  Lucius  Quintus  Peavey,  C.  S.  A.,  she  pledged 
herself  to  preserve  the  decencies  as  these  had  been 
codified  in  Little  Arcady  by  the  Sons  and  Daughters 
of  Temperance.  For  my  part  I  drank  to  her  con 
tinuance  in  the  wondrous  favor  of  Heaven. 

Thereafter,  I  am  bound  to  say,  Miss  Caroline  con 
ducted  herself  with  a  discretion  that  was  admirable. 
Upon  more  than  one  occasion  I  was  made  to  notice 
this.  One  of  them  was  at  an  evening  entertainment 
at  the  Eubanks  home  that  autumn,  to  which  it  was 
my  privilege  to  escort  her.  "A  large  and  brilliant 
company  was  present,"  to  quote  from  a  competent 
authority,  and  the  refreshments  were  "  recherche," 
to  quote  again,  this  being,  I  believe,  the  first  of  our 
social  functions  at  which  Japanese  paper  napkins 
were  handed  around.  Eustace  Eubanks  entertained 


IN   WHICH    THE   GAME   WAS   PLAYED        229 

"one  and  all"  by  exhibiting  and  describing  lantern 
views  of  important  scenes  in  the  Holy  Land ;  Mar- 
cella  sang  "  Comin'  Thro'  the  Rye  "  with  such  iron 
restraint  that  the  most  fastidious  among  us  could 
have  found  no  cause  for  offence,  and  Eustace  sang 
an  innocent  song  of  war  and  bloodshed  and  death. 
All  went  well  until  Eustace,  being  pressed  for  more, 
ventured  a  drinking  song.  Whether  this  had  been 
censored  by  his  household  I  have  never  learned. 
Perhaps  there  had  been  demurs  —  there  were  almost 
certain  to  have  been ;  and  possibly  Eustace  had  held 
out  for  the  thing  because  of  the  rare  opportunity  it 
afforded  for  the  exercise  of  his  lowest  tones.  Per 
haps  it  had  been  deemed  wise  to  indulge  him  in  this, 
lest  in  rebellion  he  break  all  bonds  of  propriety  and 
revert  to  the  "  Bedouin  Love  Song."  At  any  rate  he 
sang  "  Drinking,"  a  song  that  lauds  the  wine-cup  as 
chiefest  of  godless  joys,  and  terminating  in  "  drink 
ing  "  thrice  reiterated,  of  which  each  individual  one 
finishes  so  much  lower  than  it  begins  that  the  last 
one  seems  to  expire  in  the  bottomless  pit. 

Many  of  those  present  appeared  to  enjoy  this 
song.  Even  Marcella  Eubanks  seemed  for  once 
to  have  soared  above  mere  principle  into  the  un 
moral  realm  of  "Art  for  Art's  sake."  But  it  falls 
to  be  said,  and  I  say  it  with  a  pride  which  I  think 
should  not  excite  cavil,  that  Miss  Caroline  frowned 
splendidly  from  the  first  moment  that  the  song's 
true  character  was  revealed.  She  superbly  evinced 
uneasiness,  moreover,  when  the  thing  was  done,  as 


230  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

if  to  say,  "  One  can't  tell  what  may  occur  in  a  place 
where  that  is  permitted!"  And  her  performance 
was  not  observed  by  myself  alone.  Marcella  saw 
it  and  sped  to  her  brother,  who,  after  listening  to 
hurried  words  from  her,  dashed  into  "  The  Lost 
Chord"  with  a  swift  and  desperate  fervor,  as  if  to 
allay  all  alarm  in  the  mind  of  this  sensitive  guest. 
Eustace  was  at  heart  as  earnestly  well  meaning  as 
any  Eubanks  that  ever  lived,  and  his  vagaries  in 
song  were  attributable  solely  to  a  trusting  nature 
capriciously  endowed  with  a  dash  of  the  artistic 
temperament.  It  was  only  a  dash,  however.  Be 
yond  doubt,  had  his  family  but  known,  he  could 
have  sung  the  "  Bedouin  Love  Song,"  and  been 
none  the  worse  for  it. 

If  Miss  Caroline's  eloquent  pantomime  at  this  time 
aroused  a  suspicion  that  she  had  been  maligned,  as 
to  her  habits  of  drink,  her  behavior  on  a  subsequent 
evening,  when  Mrs.  Judge  Robinson  entertained,  left 
no  one  to  doubt  it.  There  was  music,  too,  on  this 
occasion  —  described  elsewhere  as  "  a  gala  occasion  " 
—  after  Eustace  had  concluded  his  part  of  the  enter 
tainment  and  gotten  his  lantern  out  of  the  way, — 
music  by  a  quartet  consisting  of  Messrs.  Fancett  and 
Eubanks,  first  and  second  bass,  and  Messrs.  Updyke 
and  G.  Brown,  first  and  second  tenor.  In  excellent 
accord  these  tenors  and  basses,  so  blameless  in  their 
living,  lifted  up  their  voices  and  sang  they  "  would 
that  the  wavelets  of  ocean  were  wavelets  of  sparkling 
champagne  !  "  It  was  a  blithe  and  rippling  morceau 


IN   WHICH   THE   GAME   WAS   PLAYED        231 

if  one  could  forget  the  well-nigh  cosmic  depravity  of 
it ;  but  Miss  Caroline,  it  appeared,  was  not  able  to 
forget.  She  confided  as  much  to  Marcella  Eubanks 
and  Aunt  Delia  McCormick,  intimating  that  while  she 
was  doubly  desirous  to  be  pleased  because  of  her  posi 
tion  as  an  outsider,  she  was,  nevertheless,  a  silly  old 
woman,  encrusted  with  prejudice,  and  she  could  not 
deny  that  she  found  this  song  suggestive.  Her  eyes 
glistened  when  she  said  it,  and  Marcella  felt  like  pin 
ning  a  white  ribbon  to  her  then  and  there. 

Escorting  Miss  Caroline  to  her  home  that  night,  I 
listened  to  her  account  of  this  colloquy  and  found 
myself  wishing  that  matters  had  been  different.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  must  ultimately  become  the  vic 
tim  of  a  romantic  passion  for  her,  and  I  told  her  as 
much  when  we  parted. 

Gossip,  the  yellow-tongued  dragon,  had  been 
tracked  to  its  lair  and  done  to  death,  or  at  least  that 
one  of  its  heads  had  been  smitten  off  which  babbled 
slander  of  Miss  Caroline. 

Thenceforth  she  and  I  were  free  to  think  upon 
other  matters.  And  there  were  these  other  matters 
in  both  our  lives. 

As  to  most  of  them  we  did  not  hold  speech  to 
gether.  Our  intimacy  as  yet  lay  quite  within  a  circle 
so  charmed  that  it  might  not  be  entered  by  things  too 
personal  to  either  of  us.  By  a  kind  of  tacit  treaty 
we  brought  thither  none  but  those  affairs  which  in 
vited  a  not  too  serious  tone.  Our  late  common  life 
had  provided  an  abundance  of  these,  and  they  had 


232  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

been  hailed  by  my  friend  with  an  unfailing  levity 
which  the  widow  of  J.  Rodney  Potts,  for  one,  would 
have  found  it  impossible  to  condone.  "  I  am  a  light 
old  woman,"  she  had  said  to  me ;  "  I  laugh  at  the 
world  even  when  I  fear  it  most."  There  was  a  des 
perate  sprite  of  banter  in  her  eye  when  she  made  this 
confession,  a  sprite  that  leaped  forth  to  be  gay  when 
I  shrived  her.  But,  though  we  sacredly  observed  all 
mirthful  conventions  in  our  dallying,  I  knew  that 
Miss  Caroline  had  more  than  enough  to  ponder  of 
matters  weighty.  I  knew  that  she  was  likely  to  have 
regretted  a  too-ready  sharing  of  Clem's  easy  enthusi 
asm  over  industrial  conditions  in  the  North. 

Clem  believed  by  instinct  not  only  that  the  evil 
thereof  is  sufficient  unto  the  day,  but  that  the  inci 
dental  good  sufficeth  also.  His  quality  of  faith  would 
have  seemed  a  pointed  rebuke  to  the  common  run  of 
believers  in  a  Providence  that  watches  and  sends. 
Confronted  by  the  spectre  of  present  want  he  could 
exorcise  it  neatly  by  the  device  of  beholding,  in  a 
contrary  vision,  future  limitless  pullets  of  a  market 
able  immaturity,  or  endless  acres  of  garden  produce 
ripe  and  ready  to  sell.  Moreover,  his  experience 
with  "  gold  money  "  was  as  yet  insufficient  to  acquaint 
him  with  its  truly  volatile  character.  All  sums  greater 
than  a  hundred  dollars  were  blessedly  alike  to  him  — 
equally  prodigious.  Two  hundred,  or  thousands,  or 
tens  of  thousands  sent  the  same  rays  of  light  through 
the  spectrum  of  his  poetic  mind,  and  a  bank  was  an 
institution  of  such  abiding  grace  that,  having  once 


IN   WHICH   THE   GAME   WAS   PLAYED        233 

established  a  connection  with  it,  one  possessed  forever 
a  stout  prop  in  time  of  need.  I  was  sure  indeed  that 
Miss  Caroline  had  denned  these  limitations  of  Clem 
as  a  financier.  It  was  one  of  those  enjoyable  topics 
which  we  had  been  free  to  discuss.  That  she  had 
discovered  how  lamentably  his  resources  had  been 
reduced  by  freight  tolls  on  her  furniture  I  could  only 
infer.  But  I  knew,  at  least,  that  she  was  aware  of 
the  blistering,  rainless  summer  that  had  laid  Clem's 
high  hopes  of  a  garden  in  dust  and  cut  off  half  his 
revenue.  Plainly,  Miss  Caroline  had  more  than 
enough  of  matters  fit  to  engage  her  graver  moments. 

For  my  own  part  I,  too,  had  matters  to  dwell  upon 
of  an  equal  gravity  in  their  own  poor  way ;  though 
perhaps,  too,  I  could  not  have  defined  them  as  under- 
standingly  as  I  did  the  perplexities  of  my  neighbor. 

Happily  the  feat  need  not  be  attempted  ;  I  had  the 
game,  in  which  troubles  may  be  played  away  at  least 
beyond  the  necessity  for  analyzing  them  —  the  game 
which  requires  two  decks  and  is  to  be  played  alone 
—  the  most  efficacious  of  those  devices  for  the  solitary 
which  cards  afford. 

I  had  been  made  acquainted  with  its  scheme  and 
with  some  of  its  cruder  virtues  by  a  certain  illustrious 
soldier  whom  I  was  once  much  thrown  with.  He 
confessed  to  me  that  he  played  it  before  a  battle  to 
inspire  him  with  coolness,  and  after  a  battle  to  learn 
wise  behavior  under  victory  or  defeat,  as  it  might 
have  been. 

I  was  persuaded  to  learn  more  of  it.     I  played  the 


234  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

thing  at  first,  to  be  sure,  as  I  have  noticed  that  nov 
ices  always  do,  with  a  mind  so  bent  upon  "  getting  it " 
that  I  was  insensible  of  its  curative  and  refining 
agencies. 

"  You  haven't  the  secret  yet,"  said  my  mentor,  who 
watched  me  as  I  won  for  the  first  time,  and  was 
moved  to  warn  me  by  my  unconcealed  pride  in  this 
achievement.  "  After  you've  played  it  a  few  years, 
you'll  learn  that  the  value  of  it  lies  chiefly  in  losing. 
You'll  try  like  the  devil  to  win,  of  course,  but  you'll 
learn  not  to  wish  for  it.  To  win  is  nothing  but  an 
endless  piling  up  of  the  right  cards,  beginning  with 
the  ace  and  ending  with  the  king,  and  it  only  means 
more  shuffling  for  next  time.  But  every  time  you 
lose  you  will  learn  things  about  everything." 

It  was  even  as  he  said,  —  it  took  me  years  to  learn 
this  true  merit  of  the  game ;  and  still,  as  he  had  said, 
I  learned  much  from  it  of  life. 

There  is  a  fine  moment  at  the  last  shuffling  of  the 
cards,  a  moment  when  free  will  and  fatalism  are  indis- 
tinguishably  merged. 

I  am  ready  to  lay  down  eight  cards  in  a  horizontal 
row  off  my  double  deck.  Who  will  say  that  the 
precise  number  of  shuffles  I  have  given  to  it  was 
preordained  ? 

"  I  do,"  exclaims  an  obliging  fatalist.  "  The  se 
quence  of  every  one  of  those  cards  was  determined 
when  we  were  yet  star-dust." 

I  bring  confusion  to  him  by  performing  half  a 
dozen  other  shuffles.  I  am  thus  far  the  master  of 


235 

my  unborn  game  —  another  last  shuffle  to  prove  it, 
though  I  shuffle  clumsily  enough. 

I  glance  disdainfully  at  the  fatalist  whom  I  have 
refuted,  and  prepare  again  to  lay  down  the  first  row 
of  cards.  But  the  fellow  comes  back  with,  "  Those 
last  shuffles  were  also  determined,  as  was  this 
challenge  —  " 

"  Very  well !  "  and  I  prepare  for  still  another  rear 
rangement.  But  here  I  reflect  that  this  could  be 
endless  and  not  at  all  interesting. 

I  dismiss  the  fatalist  as  a  quibbler  and  play  on. 
Now  there  is  no  dispute,  unless  there  be  other 
quibblers.  Fixed  is  the  order  in  which  the  cards 
shall  fall,  eight  at  a  time.  There  is  pure  fatalism. 
But  in  the  movings  after  each  eight  are  dealt,  I  shall 
consciously  choose  and  judge,  which  is  pure  free 
will  —  or  an  imitation  of  it  sufficiently  colorable  to 
satisfy  any  but  quibblers.  There,  for  me,  is  the 
fatalism  of  body,  the  free  will  of  soul.  Of  these  I 
learn  when  I  play  the  game. 

Now  my  first  eight  cards  are  down  in  a  horizontal 
row.  There  are  two  kings  among  them,  which  is 
auspicious,  for  kings  must  be  placed  sometime  at 
the  top.  There  is  a  red  queen,  also  auspicious,  to 
be  placed  on  one  of  the  black  kings.  There  is  an 
ace  of  diamonds  and  its  deuce.  Good,  again !  The 
ace  is  placed  above  the  row,  beginning  a  row  of  aces 
to  be  placed  there  as  fast  as  they  fall,  and  the  deuce 
is  placed  atop  of  it,  for  in  that  row  the  suits  will  be 
built  up,  each  in  its  kind.  In  the  lower  rows  the 


236  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCAUY 

suits  are  to  be  built  down  and  crossed,  as  when  I 
played  the  red  queen  on  the  black  king,  so  that  only 
the  top  of  his  crowned  head  can  be  seen.  Then  I 
play  a  red  eight  on  a  black  nine  and  a  black  seven 
on  the  red  eight.  I  am  now  left  most  fortunately 
with  five  spaces  when  I  deal  off  my  second  row  of 
eight,  —  five  spaces  into  which,  it  may  be,  a  king  or 
two  shall  happily  fall. 

The  game  usually  becomes  intense  after  the  third 
eight  cards  are  played.  By  that  time  a  choice  must 
be  made.  Shall  this  black  six  or  the  other  be  played 
on  the  red  seven  ?  One  must  be  wise,  for  either  will 
release  important  cards. 

The  game  has  started  so  well  that  it  promises  to 
play  out  too  easily  —  which  is  one  of  its  tricks. 
Presently  a  deuce  will  be  covered  by  a  king  for 
which  no  space  is  ready,  a  dark  queen  will  be  buried 
under  a  succession  of  smaller  cards,  crowding  along 
with  apparent  carelessness,  but  relentlessly.  Now  a 
space  is  opened  for  the  king  that  covers  the  deuce, 
but  the  king  has  meantime  been  covered  by  an  insig 
nificant  but  unmanageable  four-spot,  and  cannot  be 
reached.  The  game  is  not  so  absurdly  easy  as  it 
promised  to  be.  Still  it  may  be  won  by  clever  play 
ing.  There  follow  eight  cards  that  prove  to  be  im 
movable,  and  the  issue  is  almost  in  doubt.  Now  the 
last  eight  cards  are  down,  and  the  game  is  suddenly 
seen  to  be  lost.  One  small  other  shuffle  might  have 
won  it ;  if  that  tray  of  spades  had  fallen  one  place 
to  the  right  or  left,  the  thing  would  now  be  easy ;  if 


IN   WHICH  THE   GAME   WAS   PLAYED        237 

it  were  a  deuce  or  a  four,  the  thing  were  easy.  One 
spot  on  the  card  has  brought  ruin.  The  game  has 
foiled  us  with  its  own  peculiar  cleverness. 

But  then,  we  learn  to  expect  failure ;  and,  most 
important  of  all,  we  learn  to  succeed  while  failing. 
We  learn  to  see  our  cards  fall  wretchedly  without  a 
tremor.  We  learn  to  take  small  gains  that  offer,  and 
to  watch  unmoved  while  splendid  chances  come  to 
naught.  We  learn  to  live  life  and  to  waste  no 
energy  in  vain  wishing  that  we  had  shuffled  differ 
ently.  We  learn  even  to  marvel  admiringly  at  the 
unobtrusive  cunning  which  thwarts  us  of  our  dream's 
own  —  to  wonder  that  cards  ever  should  come  right  for 
any  player  in  that  maze  of  chances  and  faulty  judg 
ments.  And  we  learn,  above  all,  to  brush  the  things 
together  without  loss  of  time  and  to  play  a  new  hand 
with  the  same  old  hope. 

As  I  studied  the  cards,  making  sure  of  my  defeat 
—  one  must  be  most  careful  to  do  that;  a  way  is 
sometimes  to  be  found  —  it  was  not  strange  that  I 
fell  to  thinking  of  the  face  on  my  neighbor's  wall. 

I  had  mused  often  upon  it  since  that  first  night. 
It  seemed,  curiously  enough,  to  be  a  face  that  had 
long  been  mistily  afloat  in  my  shut  eyes,  a  girl's  face 
that  had  a  trick  of  blending  from  time  to  time  with 
the  face  of  another  I  had  better  reason  to  know. 
Unaccountably  they  had  come  and  gone,  one  fol 
lowed  by  the  other.  Of  that  last  new  face  in  my 
vision  I  could  make  nothing,  save  that  some  one 
seemed  to  have  painted  it  over  there  in  the  other 


238  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

house.     How  I  had  come  by  my  own  mind  copy  of 
it  was  a  mystery  to  me  beyond  solution. 

I  played  the  game  again  to  still  this  perplexity 
which  had  a  way  of  seizing  me  at  odd  moments.  It 
is  an  especially  good  game  for  a  man  who  has  had 
to  believe  that  life  will  always  beat  him. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

A   WORTHLESS   BLACK   HOUND 

AFTER  an  autumn  speciously  benign  came  our 
season  of  cold  and  snow.  It  proved  to  be  a  season 
of  unwonted  severity,  every  weather  expert  in  town, 
from  Uncle  William  McCormick,  who  had  kept  a 
diary  record  for  thirty  years,  to  Grandma  Steck,  who 
had  foretold  its  coming  from  a  goose-bone,  agreeing 
that  the  cold  was  most  unusual.  The  editor  of  the 
Argus  not  only  spoke  of  "  Nature's  snowy  mantle," 
but  coined  another  happy  phrase  about  Little  Arcady 
being  "locked  in  the  icy  embrace  of  winter."  This 
was  admitted  to  be  accurately  literal,  in  spite  of  its 
poetic  daring. 

Miss  Caroline  confessed  homesickness  to  me  after 
the  first  heavy  snow.  She  spoke  as  lightly  of  it  as 
she  should  have  done,  but  I  could  see  that  her  own 
land  pulled  at  her  heart  with  every  blast  that  shook 
her  casements.  No  longer,  however,  was  there  even 
a  second-cousin  whose  hospitality  she  was  free  to 
claim,  for  Colonel  Lucius  Quintus  Peavey,  C.  S.  A., 
now  slept  with  his  fathers  in  far-off  Virginia,  leaving 
behind  him  only  traditions  and  a  little  old  sherry. 
The  former  Miss  Caroline  had  always  shared  with 
him,  and  a  cask  of  the  latter  he  bequeathed  to  her 

239 


240  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

with  his  love.  And  the  valley  being  now  void  of 
her  kin,  she  was  doubly  an  exile. 

Such  new  desolation  as  she  must  have  felt  was 
masked  under  jesting  dispraise  of  our  execrable 
Northern  climate.  Surely  a  land  permitted  to  con 
geal  so  utterly  had  forfeited  the  grace  of  its  Maker. 

Clem's  lack  of  executive  genius  also  earned  a  meed 
of  my  neighbor's  disparagement.  He  was  a  worth 
less,  trifling  "  boy,"  an  idling  dreamer,  an  irresponsi 
ble,  inconsequent  visionary,  in  whose  baseless  fancies 
it  was  astounding  that  a  woman  of  her  years  should 
fatuously  place  reliance. 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  more  than  once  guilty  of 
irritation  when  Miss  Caroline  spoke  thus  slightingly 
of  her  "boy  "  —  of  one  who  had  been  unable  to  view 
himself  as  other  than  her  personal  property.  Again 
and  again  it  seemed  to  me  that,  fine  little  creature 
that  she  was,  her  tone  toward  Clem  lacked  the  right 
feeling.  I  should  not  have  demanded  gratitude  pre 
cisely  ;  at  least  no  bald  expression  of  it.  But  a  man 
ner  of  speech  denoting,  if  not  wording,  a  recognition 
of  his  unswerving  loyalty  would  have  accorded  better 
with  the  estimate  I  had  otherwise  formed  of  her  char 
acter.  The  absence  of  any  tone  or  word  that  even 
one  so  devoted  as  I  could  construe  to  her  advantage 
was  puzzling  in  the  extreme. 

Still,  feeling  toward  her  as  I  did,  I  was  compelled 
to  excuse  her  as  best  I  might  by  attributing  her  hard 
ness  to  an  evil  system  now  happily  abolished.  But 
the  nerves  in  my  lost  arm  seemed  to  tingle  with  a 


A   WORTHLESS   BLACK   HOUND  241 

secret  satisfaction  when  I  thought  of  Clem's  empty 
reward  for  his  life-work  and  remembered  that  I  had 
helped,  though  ever  so  little,  to  free  him  and  his  kind 
from  a  bond  so  unfortunate  for  each  of  the  parties 
to  it. 

The  winter  deepened  about  us,  chill  and  bleak  and 
ravaging.  The  smoke  from  our  chimneys  went  up 
in  tall  columns  that  lost  themselves  in  the  gray  sky. 
The  snow  shut  us  in,  and  presently  the  wind  lay  in 
wait  to  blast  us  when  we  dared  the  drifts. 

Yet  Miss  Caroline  throve,  despite  her  nostalgia. 
She  was  even  jaunty  in  her  recital  of  the  weather's 
minor  hardships.  To  its  rigors  she  brought  a  front  of 
resolute  gayety.  A  new  stove  graced  the  parlor,  a 
stove  with  the  proud  nickeled  title  of  "  Frost  King  "  ; 
a  title  seen  to  be  deserved  when  Clem  had  it  properly 
gorged  with  dry  wood.  Within  its  tropic  radiations 
Miss  Caroline  bloomed  and  was  hale  of  being,  like 
some  hardy  perennial. 

Of  Clem,  nothing  but  hardiness  was  to  be  antici 
pated.  He  had  been  toughened  by  four  other  of  our 
winters,  all  said  to  have  been  unusual  for  severity. 
And  yet  it  was  Clem,  curiously  enough,  and  not  Miss 
Caroline,  who  found  the  season  most  trying.  True, 
he  had  to  be  abroad  most  of  the  time,  procuring  sus 
tenance  for  the  insatiable  "  Frost  King,"  or  perform 
ing  labor  for  other  people  by  which  Miss  Caroline 
should  preserve  her  independence ;  but  it  was  not 
supposed  that  a  creature  of  his  sort  could  be  subject 
to  weaknesses  natural  enough  to  a  superior  race. 


242  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

I  believe  this  was  his  own  view  of  the  matter ;  for 
when  he  admitted  to  me  one  morning  that  he  had 
"took  cold  in  the  chest,"  his  manner  was  one  of 
deprecating  confusion,  and  he  swore  me  against 
betrayal  of  his  lapse  to  Miss  Caroline. 

She  discovered  his  guilt  for  herself,  however,  after 
a  few  days,  from  his  very  annoying  cough.  She 
taxed  him  with  it  so  sturdily  that  efforts  at  deception 
availed  him  not.  His  tale  that  the  snow  sifted  into 
his  "bref-place"  and  "tickled  it"  was  pitifully  un 
convincing,  for  his  cough  was  deeper  than  Eustace 
Eubanks's  proudest  note  in  the  drinking  song. 

"He's  a  worthless  thing,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  tell 
ing  me  of  his  fault,  and  I  said  he  was  indeed  —  that 
he  hadn't  served  me  four  years  without  my  finding 
that  out.  I  added  that  he  was  undoubtedly  sham 
ming,  but  that  at  the  same  time  it  might  be  as  well  to 
take  a  few  simple  precautions.  Miss  Caroline  said 
that  of  course  he  was  shamming,  in  order  to  get  out 
of  work,  and  that  she  would  soon  drive  that  nonsense 
out  of  his  head  if  she  had  to  wear  the  black  wretch 
out  to  do  it.  She  added  that  she  was  about  tired  of 
his  nonsense. 

It  may  be  known  that  I  have  heretofore  lost  no 
opportunity  to  foist  all  faults  of  understanding  upon 
the  heads  of  my  fellow-townsmen.  And  I  should 
have  liked  to  keep  my  record  clear  in  that  matter ; 
but  it  would  be  uncandid  to  pretend,  even  at  this  late 
day,  that  I  have  ever  divined  the  precise  relationship 
that  exists  between  Miss  Caroline  and  her  slave.  I 


A   WORTHLESS   BLACK    HOUND  243 

may  know  a  bit  more  of  its  intricacies  than  does 
Little  Arcady  at  large,  but  not  enough  to  permit  that 
certain  thrill  of  superior  discernment  which  I  have  so 
often  been  able  to  enjoy  in  Slocum  County. 

Each  of  the  two,  considered  alone,  is  fairly  com 
prehensible.  But  taken  together,  there  is  something 
between  them  which  must  always  baffle  me  —  some 
thing  which  I  cannot  believe  to  have  been  at  all 
typical  of  the  relation  between  owner  and  slave,  else 
many  of  the  facts  noted  by  our  discerning  and  im 
partial  investigators  were  either  imperfectly  observed 
or  unintelligently  reported. 

Up  to  a  certain  point  my  own  studies  of  this  slave 
holder  aligned  perfectly  with  the  information  which 
we  of  the  North  had  been  at  such  pains  to  gather. 
And  I  tried  to  hold  Miss  Caroline  blameless,  remem 
bering  that  she  had  been  long  schooled  to  the  in 
humanity  of  it. 

I  resolved,  nevertheless,  to  take  Clem  under  my 
own  roof  —  there  was  a  small  unused  room  almost 
directly  under  it  —  the  moment  Miss  Caroline's  im 
patience  with  him  should  move  her  to  the  extremes 
foretold  by  her  abusive  fashion  of  speech.  I  would 
not  see  even  a  negro  turned  out  in  the  coldest  of 
winters  for  no  better  reason  than  that  he  was  sick  and 
useless,  though  I  planned  to  intervene  delicately,  so 
as  not  to  affront  my  neighbor.  For  my  heart  was 
still  hers,  despite  this  hardness,  for  which  I  saw  that 
she  must  not  be  blamed. 

As   I  had  feared,  Clem's  cough  became  more  ob- 


244  THE  BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

trusive,  and  with  this  Miss  Caroline's  irritation  deep 
ened  toward  him.  She  declared  that  his  trifling, 
no-account  nature  made  him  all  but  impossible. 

Then  one  morning — one  to  be  distinguished  by  its 
cold  even  among  many  unusual  mornings  —  there  was 
no  Clem  to  light  my  fires  and  to  scent  my  snug  din 
ing  room  with  unparalleled  coffee.  This  brought  it 
definitely  home  to  me  that  the  situation  had  become 
grave.  I  dressed  with  what  speed  I  could  and  hurried 
to  Miss  Caroline's  door.  The  time  had  come  when  I 
should  probably  have  to  do  something. 

My  neighbor  met  me  and  said  that  Clem  had 
meanly  decided  to  remain  in  bed  for  the  day.  I 
searched  her  face  for  some  sign  of  consideration  as 
she  said  this,  but  I  was  disappointed.  She  seemed 
to  feel  only  a  fierce  disgust  for  his  foolishness. 

"  But  you  may  go  up  and  look  at  the  black  good-for- 
nothing  if  you  like,"  she  said,  grudgingly  enough  I 
thought. 

I  climbed  the  brief  flight  of  stairs.  I  knew  that 
Clem  had  not  refused  to  get  up  without  reasons  that 
seemed  sufficient  to  him.  In  a  narrow  bed  in  one  of 
the  doll-house  rooms  he  lay  coughing. 

"  So  you  can't  get  up  this  morning  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes,  seh,  Mahstah  Majah,  Ah  was  a-gittin'  up, 
but  Ah  was  fohced  to  cough  raght  smahtly  an'  Miss 
Cahline  she  yehs  it  an'  she  awdeh  me  back  to  baid,  seh. 
Then  Ah  calls  out  to  huh  that  Ah  ain't  go'n'  a'  have  no 
sech  foolishness  in  this  yeh  place,  an'  so  she  stahts  to 
come  up,  which  fohces  me  to  retiah  huhiedly.  Then 


A  WORTHLESS   BLACK   HOUND  245 

she  stands  theh  at  th'  head  of  th'  staihs  an'  she 
faulted  me  —  yes,  seh  —  she  threaten  me,  Mahstah 
Majah,  an'  she  tek  mah  clothes  away,  an'  so  on  an'  so 
fothe.  Then  Ah  huhd  huh  a'  mekin'  th'  fiah  an' 
then  she  brung  this  yeh  cawfee  an'  she  done  mek  it 
that  foolish  that  Ah  can't  tech  it.  Yes,  seh,  she 
plumb  ruined  that  theh  cawfee,  tJiafs  what  she 
done!" 

His  tone  was  peevish.  Clem  himself  was  not  talk 
ing  as  I  thought  would  have  been  becoming  in  him. 
And  there  was  a  definite  issue  of  veracity  between 
him  and  his  mistress.  I  went  down  again,  for  the 
room  was  cold. 

"  He  has  some  fever,"  I  said. 

"  He  is  a  lazy  black  hound,"  said  Miss  Caroline. 

"  He  says  you  ordered  him  to  stay  in  bed  —  threat 
ened  him  and  hid  his  clothes." 

"  Oh,  never  fear  but  what  that  fellow  will  always 
have  an  excuse  !  "  she  retorted  shortly. 

Observing  that  she  had  a  day's  supply  of  wood  at 
hand,  I  left,  not  a  little  annoyed  at  both  of  them.  I 
missed  my  coffee. 

When  I  knocked  at  the  door  that  evening,  no  one 
came  to  admit  me.  I  went  in,  hearing  Clem's  voice 
in  truculent  protest  from  a  large  room  on  the  first  floor 
which  had  been  called  the  room  of  Little  Miss.  I 
went  to  the  door  of  this  room. 

Clem  and  his  bed  were  there.  We  had  two  phy 
sicians  in  Little  Arcady,  Old  Doc  and  Young  Doc. 
Young  Doc  was  now  present  measuring  powders 


246  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

into  little  papers  which  he  folded  neatly,  while  Miss 
Caroline  stood  at  hand,  cowering  but  stubborn  under 
Clem's  violence. 

"  Miss  Cahline,  yo'  suttinly  old  enough  t'  know 
betteh'n  that.  Ah  do  wish  yo'  Paw  was  about  th' 
house  —  he  maghty  quickly  put  yo'-all  in  yo'  place. 
Now  Ah  tole  yo'  Ah  ain't  go'n'  a'  have  none  o'  this 
yeh  Doctah  foolishness.  Yo'  not  go'n'  a'  stravagate 
all  that  theh  gole  money  on  sech  crazy  doin's  an'  mek 
us  be  indigent  in  ouah  ole  aige.  What  Ah  want  with 
a  Doctah  ?  Hanh  !  Ansehmethat!  Yo'-all  jes'  git 
me  a  little  bit  calamus  an'  some  catnip,  an"  Ah  do  all 
th'  doctahin'  tha's  advisable."  All  this  he  brought 
out  with  difficulty,  for  his  breathing  was  by  no  means 
free. 

"  He's  up  to  his  tricks,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  con 
temptuously,  to  me.  Then,  to  Clem,  seeming  to  draw 
courage  from  my  presence,  "  You  be  quiet,  there,  you 
lazy,  black  good-for-nothing,  or  I'll  get  some  one  here 
to  wear  you  out!  "  And  Clem  was  again  the  van 
quished. 

"  Pneumonia,"  said  Young  Doc.  "  Bad,"  he  added 
as  we  stepped  into  the  drawing-room.  "  Take  lots  of 
care." 

I  thought  it  as  well  that  Young  Doc  had  come. 
Old  Doc,  though  well  liked,  boasted  that  all  any  man 
of  his  profession  needed,  really,  were  calomel  and  a 
good  knife.  Young  Doc  had  always  seemed  to  be 
subtler.  Anyway,  he  was  of  a  later  generation.  I 
learned  that  Old  Doc  had  scorned  to  make  the  call, 


A   WORTHLESS   BLACK    HOUND  247 

believing  that  a  "nigger"  could  not  suffer  from  any 
thing  but  yellow  fever  or  cracked  shins.  For  this 
reason  he  became  genuinely  interested  in  Clem's  case 
as  it  was  later  reported  to  him  by  Young  Doc. 

To  the  rest  of  Little  Arcady  the  case  was  also  of 
interest.  Sympathy  had  heretofore  been  with  Clem, 
because  Miss  Caroline  paid  him  no  wages,  and 
was  believed  to  take  what  he  earned  from  other 
people. 

Now,  however,  an  important  number  of  persons 
veered  —  in  wonder  if  not  in  absolute  sympathy. 
That  the  woman  should  watch  and  nurse  the  black 
fellow,  apparently  with  perfect  single-heartedness, 
was  not  to  be  squared  with  any  known  laws  of  human 
association.  "  Nursing  a  nigger  in  her  own  house 
with  her  own  hands,"  was  the  fashion  of  describing 
this  untoward  spectacle.  It  was  like  taking  a  sick 
horse  into  your  house,  and  making  play  that  it  was 
human.  The  already  puzzled  town  was  further  mys 
tified,  and  it  is  probable  that  Miss  Caroline  fell  a 
little  in  public  esteem.  Her  course  was  not  thought 
to  be  edifying.  She  could  have  sent  Clem  to  the 
county  poor  farm,  where  he  would  have  been  seen  to, 
after  a  fashion  good  enough  for  one  of  his  color,  by 
the  proper  authorities. 

My  own  bewilderment  was  at  first  hardly  less  than 
the  town's.  Had  Miss  Caroline  suddenly  changed 
her  manner  toward  Clem,  showing  regret,  however 
belated,  for  her  previous  abuse  of  him,  I  should  have 
understood.  That  would  have  been  a  simple  case  of 


248  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

awakened  sensibility.  But  she  continued  to  dispar 
age  him  to  his  face  and  to  me.  She  was  venomous 
—  scurrilous  in  her  abuse.  Yet  only  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  could  I  persuade  her  to  let  me  share  the 
watch  that  must  be  kept  over  him.  She  called  him 
an  infamous  black  wretch,  in  tones  befitting  her 
words,  but  I  could  not  get  her  to  leave  him  even  so 
long  as  her  own  health  demanded. 

There  came  nights,  however,  as  the  disease  ran  its 
course,  when  she  had  to  give  up  from  sheer  lack  of 
force.  Then  she  permitted  me  to  watch,  though  even 
at  these  times  she  often  broke  from  sleep  to  come  and 
be  assured  that  the  worthless  black  hound  had  not 
changed  for  the  worse. 

One  dim,  early  morning,  when  she  thought  I  had 
gone,  after  my  night's  watch,  I  returned  softly  to  the 
half-opened  door  with  a  forgotten  injunction  about 
the  medicines.  All  night  Clem  had  babbled  languidly 
of  many  things,  of  "  a  hunded  thousan'  hatchin'  aigs," 
and  "  a  thousan'  brillion  dollahs,"  of  "  Mahstah  Jere  " 
and  "  Little  Miss,"  of  a  visiting  Cousin  Peavey  whom 
he  had  been  obliged  to  "  whup  "  for  his  repeated  mis 
demeanors  ;  and  darkly  and  often  had  he  whispered, 
so  low  I  could  scarcely  hear  it,  of  an  enemy  that  was 
entering  the  room  with  a  fell  design.  "  Thai  he  is  — 
he  go'n'  a'  sprinkle  snake-dust  in  mah  boots  —  tha'  he 
is  —  watch  out !  " 

He  still  maundered  weakly  as  I  reached  the  door, 
but  it  was  not  this  that  detained  me  at  its  threshold. 
It  was  Miss  Caroline,  who  had  actually  knelt  at  his 


A  WORTHLESS   BLACK    HOUND  249 

side.  At  first  I  thought  she  wept  over  one  of  his 
blue-black  hands,  which  she  clung  eagerly  to  with 
both  her  own.  Then  I  saw  that  there  seemed  to  be 
no  tears  —  yet  silently,  almost  impassively,  she  gave 
me  a  sense  of  hopeless  grief  that  I  thought  no  out 
burst  of  weeping  could  have  done. 

I  wondered  wildly  then  if  her  fashion  of  speech  for 
Clem  might  not  mask  some  real  affection  for  him. 
But  this  was  unsatisfying.  On  the  spot  I  gave  up  all 
wondering  forever  about  Miss  Caroline.  I  have  ever 
since  constrained  myself  to  accept  her  without  ques 
tion,  even  in  situations  of  difficulty.  There  is  so 
much  vain  knowledge. 

That  day,  too,  was  the  bad  day  when  news  came 
that  Little  Miss  had  been  stricken  with  the  same 
dread  pneumonia.  When  she  told  me  this,  Miss 
Caroline  had  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  I  suspect  must 
often  have  been  there  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixties. 
It  was  calm  enough,  but  there  was  a  resistance  in  it 
that  promised  to  be  unbreakable.  And  to  my  never- 
ending  wonder  she  seemed  still  to  be  more  concerned 
about  Clem  than  about  her  daughter. 

"  Will  you  go  to  her  ?  "  I  asked. 

She  smiled.  "  That  could  hardly  be  afforded  just 
now." 

"  You  could  manage  it,  I  think.  Clem  has  some 
money  due  from  me." 

"  Even  so,  I  couldn't  leave  Clem.  My  daughter 
will  be  cared  for,  but  Clem  wouldn't  have  anybody. 
We-' 11  fight  it  out  on  this  line,  Major." 


250  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

I  now  saw  that  continuous  questioning  about  Miss 
Caroline  would  bring  one  in  time  to  madness,  and  I 
was  glad  of  my  resolve  never  again  to  indulge  in  this 
unprofitable  occupation. 

But  even  pneumonia  has  its  defeats.  Young  Doc 
surprised  Old  Doc  again  ;  for  the  latter,  once  con 
vinced  that  an  African  could  suffer  so  civilized  an  afflic 
tion  as  pneumonia,  had  declined  to  believe  that  he 
could  ever  "throw  it  off,"  and  had  disclosed  good 
reasons  why  he  could  not  to  an  attentive  group  at  the 
City  Drug  Store. 

Yet  after  a  night  when  Miss  Caroline  had  refused 
to  let  me  watch,  she  met  me  at  the  door  as  Young 
Doc  was  leaving.  She  was  wearied  but  chipper, 
though  there  was  an  unsteady  little  lift  in  her  voice 
as  she  said  :  — 

"  That  lazy  black  wretch  is  going  to  get  well !  " 

"  It's  about  time,"  I  said  grimly.  "  I've  been  in  a 
bad  way  without  him.  Indeed  I'm  very  glad  to  hear 
you  say  so." 

Her  eyes  twinkled  approval  upon  me,  I  thought. 

"You've  behaved  excellently,  Major.  Really,  I  am 
glad  that  we  left  you  that  other  arm."  This  was 
almost  in  her  old  manner,  though  her  eyes  seemed  a 
little  dimmed  by  her  excitement.  Then,  with  a 
sudden  return  to  the  patient :  — 

"  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  good  enough  to  go  in 
and  swear  at  Clem.  He's  perfectly  rational  now,  and 
it  will  hearten  him  wonderfully.  He's  dreadfully 
mortified  because  he's  been  sick  so  long.  And  it 


A  WORTHLESS   BLACK   HOUND  251 

needs  a  man,  you  know,  really.  I'll  close  the  door 
for  you.  Do  it  hard !  Call  him  a  damned  black 
hound,  if  you  please,  and  ask  him  what  he  means  by 
it!" 

I     hurried    in,    for    Miss    Caroline's    eyes    were 
threatening  to  betray  her. 


IN   WHICH   SOMETHING   MUST   BE   DONE 

CLEM'S  prolonged  convalescence  was  a  trial  to  his 
militant  spirit.  The  month  or  more  of  curious  weak 
ness  in  his  body,  always  before  so  stout,  left  him 
with  a  fear  that  he  had  been  "  pah'lyzed  in  th* 
frame."  Moreover,  there  were  troubles  less  inti 
mately  personal  to  him,  but  not  less  harassing  to  the 
household. 

There  was  Little  Miss,  who  was  making  a  fight  like 
Clem's  own  in  a  Baltimore  hospital.  Each  day  I  bore 
to  Miss  Caroline  a  telegram  detailing  the  progress  of 
her  daughter,  though  it  had  cost  me  time  and  trouble  to 
convince  my  correspondent  that  he  was  not  to  skimp 
such  encouragement  as  might  be  his  to  offer,  merely 
to  comprise  it  within  ten  words.  There  were  three 
days,  it  is  true,  when  ten  words  were  more  than 
enough  in  which  to  be  non-committal.  And  there 
was  a  day  that  came  upon  the  heels  of  these  when 
the  profits  of  the  telegraph  company  must  have  been 
unusual,  for  only  two  words  came  instead  of  ten  — 
"  Recovery  doubtful."  This  might  as  well  have  been 
left  unsent,  for  I  tore  it  up  and  assured  the  waiting 
pair  that  no  news  was  good  news.  They  tried 

252 


IN   WHICH   SOMETHING   MUST   BE   DONE     253 

eagerly  to  believe  this  aphorism,  which  has  the 
authority  of  age,  but  which  I  suspect  was  coined 
originally  from  despair. 

The  next  day's  bulletin  read  "  Temperature  still  up, 
but  making  a  strong  fight."  Stupid  it  was,  when 
these  were  but  eight  words,  not  to  have  added  two 
more,  such  as,  "  Very  hopeful."  I  induced  our  tele 
graph  operator  to  rectify  this  oversight,  and  felt 
repaid  for  my  trouble  when  I  showed  the  message. 
That  last  touch  seemed  to  have  been  needed.  Of 
course  Little  Miss  would  make  a  strong  fight.  Miss 
Caroline  and  Clem  both  knew  that.  But  they  had 
known  other  strong  fights  to  be  none  the  less  hope 
less,  and  they  were  grateful  for  those  last  two  words 
of  qualification. 

There  were  four  other  days  when  the  report 
seemed  to  need  judicious  editing,  and  in  this  I  did 
not  prove  remiss.  As  the  telegraph  company  re 
mained  indifferent,  I  could  see  that  no  harm  was  done. 
For  at  last  came  a  bulletin  of  seventeen  words  which 
left  us  assured  that  Little  Miss  had  conquered. 
Henceforth  we  could  receive  the  things  without  that 
stifling  dread,  that  eager  fearfulness  of  the  eyes  to 
read  all  the  words  in  one  glance.  Leisurely  could 
we  learn  that  Little  Miss  was  getting  back  her 
strength,  and  Miss  Caroline  and  I  could  laugh  at 
Clem's  fear  that  she  also  would  find  herself  "  pah'- 
lyzed  in  th'  frame." 

After  that  Miss  Caroline  and  I  were  free  to  con 
sider  another  matter,  weighty  enough  with  pneumonia 


254  TRE   BOSS    OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

out  of  the  running.  This  was  a  matter  of  ways  and 
means  —  of  sheer,  downright  money. 

When  Clem,  in  the  first  days  of  his  sickness,  had 
warned  Miss  Caroline  that  she  would  not  be  let  to 
waste  "  all  that  gold  money,"  his  lofty  reference,  as  a 
matter  of  cold  figures,  was  to  a  sum  less  than  nine 
dollars.  I  forget  the  precise  amount,  but  that  is  near 
enough  —  nine  dollars,  in  round  numbers.  And  the 
winter  had  been  an  expensive  one. 

At  the  lowest  time  of  doubt,  when  Miss  Caroline 
had  affairs  of  extreme  gravity  to  face,  I  had  spoken 
to  her  incidentally  of  money  that  I  owed  to  Clem  for 
services  performed,  and  I  had,  in  fact,  paid  several 
instalments  of  the  debt  as  money  seemed  to  be 
needed. 

When  Clem's  recovery  was  assured  and  I  urged 
Miss  Caroline  to  go  to  Little  Miss,  she  asked  me 
bluntly  what  sum  I  had  owed  Clem.  I  felt  obliged 
to  confess  that  it  was  not  more  than  two  hundred 
dollars. 

This  must  have  surprised  Miss  Caroline  as  much 
as  it  rejoiced  her,  for  she  took  up  the  matter  with 
Clem,  and  in  so  clumsy  a  fashion  that  he,  perhaps 
owing  to  his  enfeebled  condition,  witlessly  made  a 
confession  at  variance  with  mine,  and  with  an  effect 
of  candor  that  moved  his  questioner  to  take  his  word 
rather  than  that  of  an  officer  and  a  gentleman.  Of 
course  this  was  not  at  all  like  Clem.  In  referring  to 
sums  of  money  due  him  he  had  ever  been  wont  to 
chant  them  with  a  bard-like  inflation  that  recognized 


IN   WHICH   SOMETHING   MUST   BE   DONE     255 

only  sums  of  a  vague  but  immense  rotundity.  I  had 
never  known  him  to  be  thus  prosaic,  and  I  suspected 
that  Miss  Caroline  had,  in  a  sudden  impulse  of  doubt, 
terrified  him  into  being  so  brutally  explicit. 

Whence  fell  a  coldness  between  Miss  Caroline  and 
me,  for  the  discrepancy  between  Clem's  confession 
and  mine  was  not  slight.  Even  my  mutterings  about 
interest  having  accumulated  were  put  down  as  the 
desperate  resource  of  embarrassment.  Miss  Caroline 
did  not  even  dignify  them  with  her  notice,  and  the 
coldness  increased. 

Yet,  while  it  was  a  true  coldness,  it  was  distin 
guished  by  a  certain  alien  quality  of  warmth,  for 
Miss  Caroline,  though  now  on  guard  against  any 
mere  vulgar  benevolence  of  mine,  talked  to  me 
frankly,  as  she  had  never  done  before,  about  her 
situation. 

First,  it  was  impossible  to  think  of  going  to  her 
daughter.  There  were  debts  in  the  town ;  Clem 
would  be  unable  to  work  for  many  weeks ;  and  not 
only  had  Little  Miss's  contribution  from  her  small 
wage  now  failed,  but  she  herself  had  incurred  debts 
and  would  be  without  money  to  pay  them. 

My  neighbor  depicted  the  gravity  of  this  situation 
with  a  spirit  that  taxed  my  powers  of  admiration,  — 
powers  not  slight,  I  may  explain ;  for  had  they  not 
already  been  developed  beyond  the  ordinary  by  this 
same  woman  ?  Not  even  was  she  downcast  in  my 
presence.  In  fine,  she  was  superbly  Miss  Caroline 
to  me.  If  I  saw  that  to  herself  she  was  an  ill-fated 


256  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE   ARCADY 

old  woman,  perversely  surviving  a  wreck  with  which 
she  should  have  gone  down,  alone  in  a  land  that 
seemed  unkind  because  it  did  not  understand,  and  in 
desperate  straits  for  the  commonest  stuff  in  the 
world,  —  why,  that  was  no  matter  to  be  opened  be 
tween  us.  We  affected  with  mild  philosophy  to  study 
a  situation  that  not  only  did  not  require  study  but 
scarcely  permitted  it  by  candid  souls.  But  we  affected 
to  agree  that  something  must  be  done,  which  sounded 
very  well  indeed. 

As  a  sign  that  she  bore  me  no  malice  it  was 
promised  that  I  might  hire  a  man  to  plant  Clem's 
garden  that  spring,  with  the  understanding  that  I 
should  thus  acquire  an  equity  in  its  product.  This 
seemed  to  be  in  the  line  of  that  something  that 
must  be  done,  and  Miss  Caroline  and  I  made  much 
of  it,  to  avoid  the  situation's  more  embarrassing 
aspects. 

"  If  I  could  only  sell  something,"  said  my  neighbor, 
with  a  vacant  look  about  the  room  —  a  look  of  humor 
ous  disparagement.  "  The  silver  is  good,  but  there's 
hardly  enough  of  it  to  pay  one  of  those  debts  —  and 
I've  nothing  else  but  Clem.  But  if  I  tried  to  sell 
him,"  she  added  brightly,  "it  would  only  bring  on 
trouble  again  with  your  Northern  President.  I  know 
just  how  it  would  be." 

We  parted  on  this  jest.  Miss  Caroline,  I  believe, 
went  to  be  scolded  by  Clem  for  her  trifling  ways, 
while  I  sought  out  Solon  Denney. 

When  something  must  be  done,  I  seem  never  to 


IN   WHICH    SOMETHING   MUST   BE   DONE     257 

know  what  it  shall  be.  I  believe  Solon  is  often  quite 
as  uncertain,  but  he  will  never  confess  this,  so  that 
talk  with  him  under  such  circumstances  stimulates  if 
it  does  not  sustain. 

I  put  Miss  Caroline's  difficulties  before  him.  As 
any  common  catalogue  of  troubles  will  not  provoke 
Solon  from  a  happy  unconcern  which  is  tempera 
mental,  I  spared  no  details  in  my  recital,  and  I  ob 
served  at  length  that  my  listener  was  truly  aroused 
to  the  bad  way  in  which  Miss  Caroline  found  herself. 
He  sat  forward  in  his  chair,  rested  one  elbow  upon 
his  untidy  desk,  and  for  several  moments  of  silence 
jabbed  an  inky  pen  rhythmically  into  the  largest 
rutabaga  ever  grown  in  Slocum  County.  At  last  he 
sat  back  and  gazed  upon  me  distantly  from  inspired 
eyes.  Then,  with  his  characteristic  enthusiasm,  he 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  Something  will  have  to  be  done !  " 

"Wonderful!  "  I  murmured.  "  Here  I've  worried 
over  the  thing  for  two  months,  studied  it  in  court, 
studied  it  in  my  office,  studied  it  in  bed  —  and  couldn't 
make  a  thing  out  of  it.  All  at  once  I  am  guided 
to  a  welling  fount  of  wisdom,  and  the  thing  is  solved 
in  a  flash.  Solon,  you  dazzle  me !  Denney  for 
ever  !  " 

"  Now,  don't  be  funny,  Calvin  —  I  mean,  don't  try 
to  be  —  "  but  I  arose  to  go. 

"  You've  solved  it,  Solon.  Something  must  be  done. 
There's  the  difference  between  intuition  and  mere 
clumsy  ratiocination.  In  another  month  I  might 


258  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

have  found  this  out  for  myself,  but  you  divine  it 
instantly.  You're  a  clairvoyant.  Now  I'm  going 
to  find  Billy  Durgin.  You've  done  the  heavy  work 
—  you've  discovered  that  something  must  be  done. 
What  we  need  now,  I  suppose,  is  a  bright  young 
detective  to  tell  us  what  it  is." 

But  Solon  interrupted  soothingly.  "  There,  there, 
something  must  be  done,  and,  of  course,  I'll  do  it." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

Even  then  I  think  he  did  not  know. 

"We  must  use  common  sense  in  these  matters," 
he  said,  to  gain  time,  and  narrowed  his  gaze  for  an 
interval  of  study.  At  last  he  drove  the  pen  viciously 
to  its  hilt  in  the  rutabaga,  and  almost  shouted :  — 

"  I'll  go  to  see  Mrs.  Potts !  " 

Before  I  could  again  express  my  enthusiasm,  re 
awakened  by  the  felicitous  adequacy  of  this  device, 
he  had  seized  his  hat  and  was  clattering  noisily  down 
the  stairway. 

Two  hours  later  Solon  bustled  into  my  own  office, 
whither  I  had  fled  to  forget  his  manifest  incompe 
tence.  His  hat  was  well  back,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
inflated  with  secrecy.  I  remembered  it  was  thus  he 
had  impressed  me  just  previous  to  the  coup  that  had 
relieved  us  of  Potts.  I  knew  at  once  that  he  was 
going  to  be  mysterious  with  me. 

"  I  am  not  to  say  a  word  to  any  one,"  I  began, 
merely  to  show  him  that  I  was  not  dense. 

He  paused,  apparently  on  the  point  of  telling  me 
as  much.  I  saw  that  I  had  read  him  aright. 


IN    WHICH    SOMETHING   MUST    BE    DONE     259 

"  I  am  merely  to  be  quiet  and  trust  everything  to 
you,"  I  continued. 

"  Oh,  well,  —  if  you  —  " 

"  One  moment  —  let  me  take  a  few  more  words 
out  of  your  mouth.  You  are  not  certain,  I  am  to 
remember,  that  anything  will  come  of  it,  but  you 
think  something  will.  You  think  you  may  say  that 
much.  But  I  am  again  to  remember  not  to  talk 
about  it.  There  !  That's  it,  isn't  it  ? " 

He  was  entirely  serious. 

"Well,  that's  practically  it.  But  I  don't  mind 
hinting  a  little,  in  strict  confidence."  He  dropped 
into  a  chair,  sitting  earnestly  forward. 

"  You  see,  Cal,  I  remembered  a  little  remark 
Mrs.  Potts  once  made.  I  believe  it  was  the  day  after 
Mrs.  Lansdale  entertained  the  ladies'  club  last 
summer — I  remember  she  was  complaining  of  a 
headache  —  " 

"  I  never  knew  Mrs.  Potts  to  make  a  little  re 
mark,"  I  said.  I  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Solon 
grinned. 

"  Well,  perhaps  this  one  wasn't  so  very  little,  only 
I  never  thought  of  it  again  until  this  morning.  It 
was  about  Mrs.  Lansdale's  furniture." 

"  Indeed,"  I  said  in  cold  disinterest,  having  de 
signed  to  be  told  more. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Potts  thinks  there  may  be  something 
in  it." 

His  effort  was  to  seem  significant,  but  those  things 
are  apt  to  fail  with  me. 


260  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Well,  that's  a  good  idea,  Solon,  but 
you  and  Mrs.  Potts  are  slow.  Billy  Durgin  had  the 
same  idea  last  summer  while  the  furniture  was  being 
unloaded.  He  took  a  good  look  at  some  of  those  old 
pieces,  and  he  confided  to  me  in  strict  secrecy  that 
there  were  probably  missing  wills  and  rolls  of  bank 
notes  hidden  away  in  them.  It  seems  that  they're 
the  kind  that  have  secret  drawers.  Billy  knows  a 
case  where  a  man  touched  a  spring  and  found  thirty 
thousand  dollars  in  a  secret  drawer,  'and  from  there,' 
as  Billy  says,  '  he  fled  to  Australia.'  So  you  can  see 
it's  been  thought  of.  Of  course  I've  never  spoken 
of  it,  because  I  promised  Billy  not  to,  —  but  there's 
nothing  in  it." 

"  Bosh  !  "  said  Solon. 

"  Of  course  it's  bosh.  I  could  have  told  Billy 
that,  but  some  way  I  always  feel  tender  about  his 
illusions.  You  may  be  sure  I've  learned  enough  of 
the  Lansdale  family  to  know  that  no  member  of  it 
ever  hid  any  real  money  —  money  that  would  spend 
—  and  there  hasn't  been  a  will  missing  for  at  least 
six  generations." 

"  Bosh  again  ! "  said  Solon.  "  It  isn't  secret 
drawers !  " 

"No?     What  then?" 

"  Well,  —  it's  worse  —  and  more  of  it." 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?"  I  asked  as  he  stood 
up. 

"Well,  that's  all  I  can  say  now.  We  must  use 
common  sense  in  these  matters.  But  —  Mrs.  Potts 


IN   WHICH    SOMETHING   MUST   BE   DONE     261 

has  written !  "     With  this  cryptic  utterance  he  stalked 
out. 

There  had  been  little  need  to  caution  me  to  secrecy. 
I  was  not  tempted  to  speak.  Had  I  known  any 
debtor  of  Miss  Caroline's  who  would  have  taken 
"  Mrs.  Potts  has  written  "  in  payment  of  his  account, 
it  might  have  been  otherwise. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

LITTLE    ARCADY    IS    GRIEVOUSLY    SHAKEN 

MRS.  POTTS  had  written.  I  had  Solon's  word  for 
it ;  but  that  which  followed  the  writing  will  not  cease 
within  this  generation  or  the  next  to  be  an  affair  of 
the  most  baffling  mystery  to  our  town  folk.  Me,  also, 
it  amazed  ;  though  my  emotion  was  chiefly  concerned 
with  those  gracious  effects  which  the  gods  continued 
to  manage  from  that  apparently  meaningless  sojourn 
of  J.  Rodney  Potts  among  us. 

Superficially  it  was  a  thing  of  utter  fortuity. 
Actually  it  was  a  masterpiece  of  cunning  calculation, 
a  thing  which  clear-visioned  persons  might  see  to 
bristle  with  intention  on  every  side. 

Years  after  that  innocent  encounter  between  an 
adventurous  negro  and  an  amiable  human  derelict  in 
the  streets  of  a  far  city, — those  two  atoms  shaken 
into  contact  while  the  gods  affected  to  be  engaged 
with  weightier  matters,  —  the  cultured  widow  of  that 
derelict  recalled  the  name  of  a  gentleman  in  the  East 
who  was  accustomed  to  buy  tall  clocks  and  fiddle- 
backed  chairs,  in  her  native  New  England,  paying 
prices  therefor  to  make  one,  in  that  conservative  local 
ity,  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,  almost. 

Such  was  the  cleverly  devised  circumstance  that 
262 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN     263 

now  intervened  between  my  neighbor  and  an  in 
digence  distressing  to  think  about.  It  was  as  if,  in 
the  game,  a  red  four  which  one  had  neglected  to  "  play 
up  "  should  actually  permit  victory  after  an  intricate 
series  of  disasters,  by  providing  a  temporary  resting- 
place  for  a  black  trey,  otherwise  fatally  obstructive, 
causing  the  player  to  marvel  afresh  at  that  last  fateful 
but  apparently  chance  shuffle. 

A  week  after  Mrs.  Potts  had  written,  the  gentle 
man  who  received  her  letter  registered  as  "  Hyman 
Cohen,  New  York,  N.Y.,"  at  the  City  Hotel.  From 
his  manner  of  speech  when  he  inquired  for  the  Lans- 
dale  home  it  was  seen  that  he  seemed  to  be  a  German. 

When  Miss  Caroline  received  him  a  little  later,  he 
asked  abruptly  about  furniture,  and  she,  in  some 
astonishment,  showed  him  what  she  had,  even  to 
that  crowded  into  dark  rooms  and  out  of  use. 

He  examined  it  carelessly  and  remarked  that  it  was 
the  worst  lot  that  he  had  ever  seen. 

This  did  not  surprise  Miss  Caroline  in  the  least, 
though  she  thought  the  gentleman's  candor  excep 
tional.  Little  Arcady's  opinion,  which  she  knew  to 
tally  with  his,  had  always  come  to  her  more  circui- 
tously. 

The  strange  gentleman  then  asked  Miss  Caroline, 
not  too  urbanely,  if  she  had  expected  him  to  come  all 
the  way  from  New  York  to  look  at  such  cheap  stuff. 
Miss  Caroline  assured  him  quite  honestly  that  she 
had  expected  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  intimated  that 
her  regret  for  his  coming  surpassed  his  own,  even  if 


264  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

it  must  remain  more  obscurely  worded.  She  indicated 
that  the  interview  was  at  an  end. 

The  strange  gentleman  arose  also,  but  as  Clem  was 
about  to  close  the  door  after  him,  he  offered  Miss 
Caroline  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  "  the  lot," 
observing  again  that  it  was  worthless  stuff,  but 
that  in  "  this  business  "  a  man  had  to  take  chances. 
Miss  Caroline  declined  to  notice  this,  having  found 
that  there  was  something  in  the  gentleman's  manner 
which  she  did  not  like,  and  he  went  down  the  path 
revealing  annoyance  in  the  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and 
the  sidewise  tilt  of  his  head. 

To  Mrs.  Lansdale's  unaffected  regret,  and  amaze 
ment  as  well,  the  gentleman  returned  the  following 
morning  to  say  that  he  was  about  to  leave  for  New 
York,  but  that  he  would  actually  pay  one  hundred 
and  seventy-eight  dollars  for  the  stuff.  This  was  at 
least  twenty-two  dollars  more  than  it  could  possibly 
be  worth,  but  the  gentleman  had  an  unfortunate 
passion  for  such  things.  Miss  Caroline  bowed,  and 
called  Clem  as  she  left  the  room. 

The  gentleman  returned  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  to  close  the  deal.  He  said  he  had  missed  his 
train  on  the  previous  day,  and  being  a  superstitious 
man  he  regarded  that  as  an  augury  of  evil.  Never 
theless  he  had  resolved  to  take  the  stuff  even  at  a 
price  that  was  ruinous.  He  unfolded  two  hundred 
dollars  in  the  presence  of  Clem,  and  wished  to  know 
if  he  might  send  a  wagon  at  once.  Clem  brought 
back  word  from  Miss  Caroline,  who  had  declined  to 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS  GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN     265 

appear,  that  the  strange  gentleman  would  oblige  her 
by  ceasing  his  remarkable   intrusions.     Whereupon 

the  gentleman  had  said:  "Oh,  very  well!     Then  I 

i  » 

But  he  went  no  farther  than  the  City  Hotel ;  and 
here  one  may  note  a  further  contrivance  of  indirec 
tion  on  the  part  of  our  attending  Fates. 

From  the  evening  train  of  that  day  the  'bus 
brought  another  strange  gentleman,  of  an  Eastern 
manner,  but  somewhat  neater  of  dress  than  the  first 
one  and  speaking  with  an  accent  much  less  obtrusive. 
This  gentleman  wrote  "James  Walsingham  Price, 
N.Y.,"  on  the  register,  called  for  a  room  with  a  bath, 
ordered  "coffee  and  rolls"  to  be  sent  there  at  eight- 
thirty  the  next  morning,  and  then  asked  to  see  the 
"  dinner  card." 

After  mine  host,  Jake  Kilburn,  had  been  made  to 
understand  what  "  dinner  card  "  meant,  he  made  Mr. 
James  Walsingham  Price  understand  that  there  was 
no  dinner  card.  This  being  clear  at  last,  the  new 
comer  said :  "  Oh,  very  well !  Then  just  give  my 
order  to  the  head-waiter,  will  you  —  there's  a  good 
chap  —  a  cup  of  consomme,  a  bit  of  fish,  a  bird  of 
some  sort,  broiled,  I  fancy,  —  er —  potatoes  augratin, 
a  green  salad  of  some  kind,  —  serve  that  with  the 
bird,  —  a  piece  of  Camembert,  if  it's  in  good  condi 
tion,  any  entremet  you  have  and  a  demi-tasse.  I'll 
mix  the  salad  dressing  myself,  tell  him,  —  oh,  yes  — 
and  a  pint  of  Chambertin  if  you've  something  you 
can  recommend." 


266  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Billy  Durgin,  scrutinizing  the  newcomer  in  a  pro 
fessional  way,  told  me  afterwards  that  Jake  Kilburn 
"  batted  his  eyes  "  during  this  strange  speech  and 
replied  to  it,  "like  a  man  coming  to"-  —  "  supper  in 
twenty  minutes,"  after  which  he  pounded  a  bell  furi 
ously  and  then  himself  showed  his  new  and  puzzling 
guest  to  a  room  —  but  not  a  room  "with  a  bath,"  be 
it  understood,  for  a  most  excellent  reason. 

Billy  Durgin  was  excited  half  an  hour  later  by 
noting  the  behavior  of  the  first  strange  gentleman 
from  the  East  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  this  second.  He 
threw  both  hands  into  the  air,  where  they  engaged  in 
rapid  horizontal  shakings  from  his  pliant  wrists,  and 
in  hushed  gutturals  exclaimed,  "  My  God,  my  God ! " 
in  his  own  fashion  of  speech,  which  was  reproduced 
admirably  for  me  by  my  informant.  Billy  was  thus 
confirmed  in  his  earlier  belief  that  the  first  strange 
gentleman  was  a  house-breaker  badly  wanted  some 
where,  and  he  now  surmised  that  the  newcomer  must 
be  a  detective  on  his  trail.  But  a  close  watch  on 
their  meeting,  a  little  later  in  the  evening,  seemed  to 
contradict  this  engaging  hypothesis.  The  second 
stranger  emerged  from  the  dining  room,  where  he 
had  been  served  with  supper,  and  as  he  shut  the 
door  of  that  banqueting  hall,  Billy,  standing  by,  heard 
him,  too,  call  upon  his  Maker.  He  called  only  once, 
but  it  was  in  a  voice  so  full  of  feeling  as  to  make 
Billy  suspect  that  he  was  remembering  something  un 
pleasant. 

At  this  point    the  newcomer  had  glanced  up   to 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN     267 

behold  the  first  strange  gentleman,  and  Billy  held  his 
breath,  expecting  to  witness  a  sensational  capture. 
To  his  unspeakable  disgust  the  supposed  sleuth 
grinned  affably  at  his  supposed  quarry  and  said : 
"  Ah,  Hyman  !  Is  the  stuff  any  good  ?  " 

"  How  did  you  find  it  out  ?"  asked  the  first  strange 
gentleman. 

The  other  smiled  winningly.  "Why,  I  dropped 
into  your  place  the  other  day,  and  that  beautiful 
daughter-in-law  of  yours  mentioned  incidentally  where 
you'd  gone  and  what  for.  She's  a  good  soul,  Hyman, 
bright,  and  as  chatty  as  she  can  be." 

"  Ach  !  That  Malke  !  She  goes  back  right  off  to 
De  Lancey  Street,  where  she  belongs,"  said  the  first 
stranger,  plainly  irritated. 

"  How  did  you  find  the  stuff,  Hyman  ? " 

"  Have  you  et  your  supper  yet  ? " 

"Yes  —  'tisn't  Kosher,  is  it?  How  did  you  find 
the  stuff?" 

"  No,  it  ain't  Kosher  — nothing  ain't  Kosher !  " 

"  It's  a  devilish  sight  worse,  though.  How  did  you 
find  the  stuff,  Hyman  ?  " 

The  one  called  Hyman  here  seemed  to  despair 
of  putting  off  this  query. 

"No  good!  No  good! — not  a  decent  piece  in 
the  lot !  I  pledge  you  my  word  as  a  gentleman  I 
wouldn't  pay  the  freight  on  it  to  Fourth  Avenue ! " 
Billy  remarked  that  the  gentleman  said  "  pletch  "  for 
pledge  and  "afanoo"  for  avenue. 

The  second  stranger,  hearing  this,  at  once  became 


268  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

strangely  cheerful  and  insisted  upon  shaking  hands 
with  the  first  one. 

"Fine,  Hyman,  fine!  I'm  delighted  to  hear  you 
say  so.  Your  words  lift  a  load  of  doubt  from  my 
mind.  It  came  to  me  in  there  just  now  that  I  might 
be  incurring  that  supper  for  nothing  but  my  sins  !" 

"  Have  your  choke,"  said  Hyman,  a  little  bitterly. 

"I  have,  Hyman,  I  have  had  my  'choke'  !"  said 
James  Walsingham  Price,  with  a  glance  of  disrelish 
toward  the  dining  room. 

It  seemed  clear  to  Billy  Durgin,  who  reported  this 
interview  to  me  in  a  manner  of  able  realism,  that 
these  men  were  both  crooks  of  the  first  water. 

Billy  at  once  polished  his  star  and  cleaned  and 
oiled  his  new  32-caliber  "bull-dog."  The  promise  of 
work  ahead  for  the  right  man  loomed  more  brightly 
than  ever  before  in  his  exciting  career. 

While  I  discussed  with  Miss  Caroline,  that  even 
ing,  the  unpleasant  mystery  of  her  late  caller,  there 
came  a  note  from  him  by  messenger.  He  offered 
six  hundred  and  twenty-one  dollars  for  her  furniture, 
the  sum  being  written  in  large  letters,  so  that  it  had 
the  effect  of  being  shouted  from  the  page.  He  fur 
ther  expressed  a  wish  to  close  the  deal  within  the 
half  hour,  as  he  must  leave  town  on  the  night 
train. 

Had  Miss  Caroline  been  alone,  she  might  have 
fallen.  Even  I  was  staggered,  but  not  beyond  recov 
ery.  The  messenger  bore  back,  at  my  suggestion, 
a  refusal  of  the  offer  and  a  further  refusal  to  consider 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN     269 

any  more  offers  that  evening.  There  was  indicated 
a  need  for  calm  daylight  consideration,  and  a  face-to- 
face  meeting  with  this  variable  Mr.  Cohen. 

"  But  he  leaves  on  the  night  train,"  said  Miss 
Caroline.  "  It  may  be  our  last  chance,  and  six  hun 
dred  dollars  is  —  " 

"He  only  says  he  leaves,"  I  responded.  "And  for 
three  days,  at  least,  Mr.  Cohen  seems  to  have  been 
grossly  misinformed  about  his  own  movements.  Per 
haps  he's  deceived  himself  again." 

At  eight  o'clock  the  following  morning  Clem  served 
my  breakfast  for  the  first  time  since  his  illness,  and  I 
approached  it  with  thanksgiving  for  his  recovery. 

A  knock  at  the  door  took  him  from  me  just  as  he 
had  poured  the  first  cup  of  real  coffee  I  had  seen  for 
nearly  three  months.  He  came  back  with  the  card 
of  one  James  Walsingham  Price,  whom  I  did  not 
know ;  whereas  I  did  know  the  coffee. 

"  Fetch  him  here,"  I  said.  "  He  can't  expect  me  to 
leave  this  coffee,  whoever  he  is." 

Into  my  dining  room  was  then  ushered  a  tall, 
smartly  dressed,  smooth-faced  man  of  perhaps  mid 
dle  age,  with  yellowish  hair  compactly  plastered  to 
his  head.  He  became,  I  thought,  suddenly  alert  as 
he  crossed  my  threshold.  I  arose  to  greet  him. 

"  This  is  —  "I  had  to  glance  at  the  card. 

"  Yes  —  and  you're  Major  Blake  ?  I  regret  to  dis 
turb  you,  Major,"  —  here  his  glance  rested  blankly 
upon  the  rich  golden-brown  surface  of  Clem's  ome 
lette,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  thread  of  his 


2/0  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

intention  was  broken  for  an  instant  by  a  fit  of  absent- 
mindedness.  He  resumed  his  speech  only  after  an 
appreciable  pause,  as  if  the  omelette  had  reminded 
him  of  something. 

"  The  hour  is  untimely,  but  I'm  told  that  you're  a 
friend  of  a  Mrs.  Lansdale,  who  has  some  pieces  of 
Colonial  furniture  she  wishes  to  let  go.  I  wondered, 
you  know,  if  you'd  be  good  enough  to  introduce  me. 
I  rather  thought  some  such  formality  might  be  ad 
visable  —  I  understand  that  a  shark  named  Cohen  has 
already  approached  her." 

Even  as  he  spoke  I  recalled  that  Mr.  Cohen's  face, 
in  profile,  might  provoke  the  vision  of  a  shark  to  a 
person  of  lively  imagination. 

"  I  shall  be  glad,"  I  said,  "  to  present  you  to  Mrs. 
Lansdale." 

Again  had  my  caller's  glance  trailed  across  the 
breakfast  table,  where  the  omelette,  the  muffins,  and 
the  coffee-urn  waited.  The  glance  was  politely 
unnoting,  but  in  it  there  yet  lurked,  far  back,  the 
unmistakable  quality  of  a  caress.  In  an  instant 
I  remembered,  and,  with  a  pang  of  sympathy,  I 
became  his  hungered  brother. 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Price,  are  you  staying  at  the 
City  Hotel  ? " 

"  The  man  said  it  was  the  only  place,  you  know." 

"  You  had  breakfast  there  this  morning  ?  "  He 
bowed  his  assent  eloquently,  I  thought. 

"  Then  by  all  means  sit  down  and  have  break 
fast." 


LITTLE   ARCADY    IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN     271 

"  Oh,  really,  no  —  by  no  means  —  I  assure  you  I'd 
a  capital  breakfast  —  " 

"  Clem !  " 

Clem  placed  a  chair,  into  which  Mr.  Price  dropped 
without  loss  of  time,  though  protesting  with  polished 
vehemence  against  the  imposition. 

His  eyes  shone,  nevertheless,  as  Clem  set  a  cup  of 
coffee  at  his  elbow  and  brought  a  plate. 

"  May  I  ask  when  you  arrived  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  Only  last  evening." 

"  Then  you  dined  at  the  City  Hotel  ? " 

"  Major  Blake,  I  will  be  honest  with  you  —  I  did !  " 

"Clem,  another  omelette,  quick  —  but  first  fetch 
some  oranges,  then  put  on  a  lot  more  of  that  Virginia 
ham  and  mix  up  some  waffles,  too.  Hurry  along!" 

"  Really,  you  are  very  good,  Major." 

"Not  that,"  I  answered  modestly;  "I've  merely 
eaten  at  the  City  Hotel."  But  I  doubt  if  he  heard, 
for  he  lovingly  inhaled  the  aroma  of  his  coffee  with 
half-shut  eyes. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  have  met  you,"  he  said.  "  If 
ever  you  come  to  New  York  —  "  He  tore  himself 
from  the  omelette  long  enough  to  scribble  the  name 
of  a  club  on  the  card  by  my  plate. 

"  I  rarely  crave  more  than  coffee  and  a  roll  in  the 
morning,"  he  continued,  after  the  second  omelette, 
the  ham,  the  waffles,  and  more  coffee  had  been  con 
sumed.  "  I  fancy  it's  your  bracing  air." 

I  fancied  it  was  only  the  City  Hotel,  but  I  did  not 
revert  to  that. 


272  THE   BOSS  OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

When  at  last  Mr.  Price  lighted  a  cigar  which  I 
had  procured  at  an  immense  distance  from  Slocum 
County,  he  spoke  of  furniture,  also  of  Cohen. 

Beheld  through  the  romantic  mist  of  after-break 
fast,  Cohen  was,  perhaps,  not  wholly  a  shark ;  at 
least  not  more  than  any  dealer  in  old  furniture. 
Really,  they  were  almost  forced  to  be  sharks.  It 
was  not  in  the  nature  of  the  business  that  they  should 
lead  honest  lives.  Mere  collectors  —  of  which  class 
my  guest  was  —  were  bad  enough.  Still,  if  you 
could  catch  a  collector  in  one  of  his  human  mo 
ments  — 

He  blew  forth  the  smoke  of  my  cigar  with  a  relish 
so  poignant  that  I  suspected  he  had  already  tried  one 
of  Jake  Kilburn's  best,  the  kind  concerning  which 
Jake  feels  it  considerate  to  warn  purchasers  that 
they  are  "five  cents  straight"  and  not  six  for  a  quar 
ter.  I  saw  that  if  the  collector  before  me  were  sub 
ject  to  human  moments,  he  must  be  suffering  one 
now.  So,  while  he  smoked,  I  told  him  freely  of 
Miss  Caroline,  of  her  furniture  and  her  plight. 

He  commended  the  tale. 

"  One  of  the  best  I  ever  heard,"  he  declared. 
"  Only,  if  you'll  pardon  me,  it  sounds  too  good  to  be 
true.  It  sounds,  indeed,  like  a  '  plant,'  —  fine  old 
Southern  family,  impoverished  by  war  —  faithful 
body-servant  —  old  Colonial  mansion  despoiled  of 
its  heirlooms  —  rare  opportunities  for  the  collector. 
Really,  Major,  you  should  see  some  of  the  stuff  that 
was  landed  on  me  when  I  began,  years  ago,  with  a 


LITTLE   ARCADY    IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN    273 

story  almost  as  good.  Reproductions,  every  piece  of 
it,  with  as  fine  an  imitation  of  worm-eaten  backs  as 
you  could  ever  wish  to  see." 

I  had  never  wished  to  see  any  worm-eaten  backs 
whatever,  but  I  sought  to  betray  regret  that  I  had 
not  encountered  this  surpassing  lot  of  them. 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  "  you  will  understand 
that  I  am  speaking  now  as  a  hardened  collector, 
whose  life  is  beset  with  pitfalls  and  with  gins  —  not 
as  a  starved  wretch  to  the  saver  of  his  life." 

"You  shall  see  the  stuff,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  by  all  means,  and  the  quicker  the  better. 
Cohen  is  waiting  at  the  hotel  for  me  now  —  at  the 
foot  of  the  front  stairway,  and  he  may  suspect  any 
minute  that  I  was  mean  enough  to  slink  down  the 
back  stairs  and  out  through  an  alley.  In  fact,  I'm 
rather  excited  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  that  furni 
ture  —  Cohen  condemned  it  so  bitterly." 

"He  sent  an  offer  of  six  hundred  dollars  for  it 
last  night,"  I  said.  Hereupon  my  guest  became 
truly  excited. 

"He  did —  six  hundred  —  Cohen  did  ?  I  don't 
wish  to  be  rude,  old  chap,  but  would  you  mind 
hastening  ?  That  is  more  eloquent  than  all  your 
story." 

For  half  an  hour,  notwithstanding  his  eagerness, 
Mr.  James  Walsingham  Price  succumbed  to  the  man 
ner  of  Miss  Caroline.  Noting  the  lack  of  compunc 
tion  with  which  she  played  upon  him  before  my  very 
eyes,  I  divined  that  the  late  Colonel  Lansdale  had 


2/4  THE   BOSS    OF    LITTLE   ARCADY 

not  found  the  need  of  pistols  entirely  done  away  with 
even  by  the  sacrament  of  marriage. 

Not  until  Clem  announced  "  Mr.  Cohen  "  did  the 
self-confessed  collector  cease  to  be  a  man. 

"  Not  at  home,"  said  Miss  Caroline,  crisply.  Price 
grinned  with  appreciation  and  fell  to  examining  the 
furniture  in  strange  ways. 

It  was  a  busy  day  for  him,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
found  it  enjoyable,  and  strangely  was  it  borne  in 
upon  me  that  Miss  Caroline's  ancient  stuff  was  in 
some  sense  desirable. 

More  than  once  did  Price  permit  some  sign  of 
emotion  to  be  read  in  his  face  —  as  when  the  sixth 
chair  of  a  certain  set  was  at  last  found  supporting  a 
water-pail  in  the  kitchen.  The  house  was  not  large, 
but  it  was  crowded,  and  Price  was  frankly  surprised 
at  the  number  of  things  it  held. 

At  six  o'clock  he  went  to  dine  with  me,  Miss  Caro 
line  having  told  him  that  I  was  authorized  to  act  for 
her  on  any  proposal  he  might  have  to  make. 

"  You  have  saved  me  again,"  he  said  warmly,  in 
the  midst  of  Clem's  dinner.  "  I  assure  you,  Major, 
that  hotel  is  infamous.  I'm  surprised,  you  know, 
that  something  isn't  done  about  it  by  the  authori 
ties." 

I  had  to  confess  that  the  City  Hotel  was  very 
highly  regarded  by  most  of  our  citizens. 

Again,  after  a  brief  interval  of  stupefaction,  did 
James  Walsingham  Price  call  upon  his  Maker. 
"And  yet,"  he  murmured,  "we  are  spending  millions 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN    275 

annually  to  impose  mere  theology  upon  savages  far 
less  benighted.  Think  for  a  moment  what  a  tithe  of 
that  money  would  do  for  these  poor  people.  Take 
the  matter  of  green  salads  alone  —  to  say  nothing  of 
soups  —  don't  you  have  so  simple  a  thing  as  lettuce 
here  ? " 

"  We  do,"  I  said,  "  but  it's  regarded  as  a  trifle. 
They  put  vinegar  and  sugar  on  it  and  cut  it  up  with 
their  knives." 

My  guest  shuddered. 

"  I  dare  say  it's  hopeless,  but  I  shall  always  be  glad 
to  remember  that  you  exist  away  from  your  City 
Hotel." 

Thus  did  we  reach  the  coffee  and  norne  cognac 
which  the  late  L.  Q.  Peavey  had  gifted  me  with  by 
the  hands  of  his  estimable  kinswoman. 

"And  now  to  business,"  said  my  guest.  His 
whimsical  gray  eyes  had  become  studious  and  de 
tached  from  our  surroundings.  He  had  a  generous 
mouth,  which  he  seemed  habitually  to  sew  up  in  a 
close-drawn  seam,  but  this  would  suddenly  and  pleas 
antly  rip  in  moments  of  forgetfulness.  Being  the  col 
lector  at  this  moment,  the  mouth  was  tightly  stitched. 

"  Let  me  begin  this  way,"  he  said.  "  There  are 
exactly  six  pieces  in  that  house  that  will  prevent  my 
being  honest  so  long  as  they  are  not  mine.  I  am 
not  unmindful  of  your  succor,  Major.  I'll  prove  that 
to  you  if  you  look  me  up  in  town,  —  send  me  a  wire 
and  a  room  shall  be  waiting  for  you,  —  and  I  am  en 
raptured  by  that  small  and  lively  brown  lady. 


276  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Nevertheless  I  shall  remain  a  collector  and,  humanly 
speaking,  an  ingrate,  a  wolf,  a  caitiff,  until  those  six 
articles  are  mine.  Make  them  mine,  and  for  the  re 
mainder  of  that  stuff  you  shall  have  the  benefit  of  an 
experience  that  has  been  of  incredible  cost.  Accept 
my  figure,  and  I  promise  you  as  man  to  man  to  de- 
Cohenize  myself  utterly." 

"  They  are  yours,"  I  said  • —  "  what  are  they  and 
what  is  the  figure  ?  Clem —  Mr.  Price's  glass." 

"  There  —  you  disarm  me.  One  bit  of  haggling 
or  hesitation  might  have  hardened  me  even  now ;  the 
serpent  within  me  would  have  lifted  its  head  and 
struck.  But  you  have  saved  yourself  —  and  very 
well  for  that!  The  articles  are  those  six  ball-and- 
claw-foot  chairs  with  violin  backs.  I  will  pay  fifty 
dollars  apiece  for  those.  Remember  —  it  is  the  voice 
of  Cohen.  The  chairs  are  worth  more  —  some  day 
they'll  fetch  twice  that ;  but,  really,  I  must  throw  a 
sop  to  that  collector-Cerberus  within  me.  He's  en 
titled  to  something.  He  had  the  wit  to  fetch  me 
here." 

"  The  chairs  are  yours,"  I  said,  wondering  if  I  had 
not  mistaken  his  offer,  but  determining  not  to  betray 
this. 

"  A  little  memorandum  of  sale,  if  you  please  —  and 
I'll  give  you  my  check.  That  larger  sideboard  would 
also  have  stood  in  the  way,  but  those  glass  handles 
aren't  the  originals." 

The  formality  was  soon  despatched,  and  my  cu 
rious  friend  became  truly  human. 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY    SHAKEN     277 

"  Now,  Blake,  this  is  from  the  grateful  wretch 
whose  life  you  have  not  only  saved  but  enriched. 
Well,  there's  an  excellent  lot  of  stuff  there.  I've  got 
the  pick,  from  a  collector's  standpoint  —  though  not 
from  a  money  valuation.  I  can't  tell  what  it  will 
bring,  but  enough  to  put  our  youngish  old  friend 
easy  for  some  time  to  come.  You  box  it  up,  as  much 
as  she  wants  to  let  go,  and  send  it  to  the  Empire 
Auction  Rooms  —  here's  the  card.  They're  plain 
auction-room  people,  you  understand,  —  wouldn't 
hesitate  to  rob  you  in  a  genteel,  auction  way,  —  but 
I'll  be  there  and  see  that  they  don't.  Some  of  those 
other  pieces  I  may  want,  but  I'll  take  a  bidding 
chance  on  them  like  a  man,  and  I'll  watch  the  whole 
thing  through  and  see  that  it's  straight" 

Billy  Durgin  told  me  that  Cohen  and  James  Wal- 
singham  Price  left  on  the  night  train  going  East. 
Billy  noticed  that  Cohen  seemed  morose,  and  heard 
him  exclaim  something  that  sounded  like  "  Goniff !  " 
under  his  breath,  as  Price  turned  away  from  him  after 
a  brief  chat. 

For  Little  Arcady  the  appalling  wonder  was  still  to 
dawn.  Load  after  load  of  the  despised  furniture 
went  into  freight-cars,  until  the  home  of  Miss  Caroline 
was  only  comfortably  furnished.  This  was  sensa 
tional  enough  —  that  the  things  should  be  thought 
worth  shipping  about  the  country  with  freights  so 
high. 

But  after  a  few  weeks  came  tales  that  atrophied 
belief  —  tales  corroborated  by  a  printed  catalogue  and 


278  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

by  certain  deposits  of  money  in  our  bank  to  the  ac 
count  of  Miss  Caroline.  That  six  wretched  chairs, 
plain  to  ugliness,  had  sold  for  three  hundred  dollars 
spread  consternation.  The  plain  old  sideboard  for 
a  hundred  and  ten  dollars  only  fed  the  flames.  But 
there  had  been  sold  what  the  catalogue  described  as 
"  A  Colonial  sofa  with  carved  dolphin  arms,  winged 
claw  feet,  and  carved  back  "  for  two  hundred  and 
ten  dollars,  and  after  that  the  emotions  aroused  in 
Little  Arcady  were  difficult  to  classify.  Upon 
that  very  sofa  most  of  the  ladies  of  Little  Arcady 
had  sat  to  pity  Miss  Caroline  for  being  "  lumbered  " 
with  it.  Again,  a  "  Colonial  highboy,  hooded,"  re 
called  as  an  especially  awkward  thing,  and  "  five  ma 
hogany  side  chairs  "  had  gone  for  three  hundred  and 
eighty  dollars.  A  "  Heppelwhite  mahogany  arm 
chair,"  remembered  for  its  faded  red  satin,  had 
veritably  brought  one  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  ;  and 
a  carved  rosewood  screen,  said  to  be  of  Empire 
design,  but  a  shabby  thing,  had  sold  astonishingly 
for  ninety  dollars.  A  "  Hogarth  chair-back  settee  " 
for  two  hundred  and  ten  dollars,  and  "  four  Hogarth 
side  chairs"  for  three  hundred  and  fifteen  dollars 
only  darkened  our  visions  still  further.  Some  of  us 
had  known  that  Hogarth  was  an  artist,  but  not  that 
he  had  found  time  from  his  drawing  to  make  furni 
ture.  Of  Heppelwhite  we  had  heard  not  at  all,  al 
though  twelve  arm-chairs  said  to  be  his  had  been  by 
some  one  thought  to  be  worth  around  seven  hundred 
dollars.  Nor  of  any  Sheraton  did  we  know,  though 


LITTLE   ARCADY   IS   GRIEVOUSLY   SHAKEN    279 

one  of  his  sideboards  and  a  "  pair  of  Sheraton  knife 
urns  "  fetched  the  incredible  sum  of  five  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  Chippendale  was  another  name  un 
familiar  in  Slocum  County,  but  Chippendale,  it 
seemed,  had  once  made  a  wing  book-case  which  was 
now  worth  two  hundred  and  forty  dollars  of  some 
enthusiast's  money.  After  that  a  Chippendale  settee 
for  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars  and  an  "  Empire  table 
with  1830  base"  for  ninety-three  dollars  seemed  the 
merest  trifles  of  this  insane  outbreak. 

The  amount  netted  by  the  late  owner  of  these 
things  was  reported  with  various  exaggerations,  which 
I  never  saw  any  good  reason  to  correct.  As  I  have 
said,  the  thing  was,  and  promises  to  remain  forever 
in  Little  Arcady,  a  phenomenon  to  be  explained  by 
no  known  natural  laws.  For  a  long  time  our  ladies 
were  too  aghast  even  to  marvel  at  it  intelligibly. 
When  Aunt  Delia  McCormick  in  my  hearing  said, 
"  Well,  now,  what  a  world  this  is !  "  and  Mrs.  West- 
ley  Keyts  answered,  "  That's  very  true  /  "  I  knew 
they  referred  to  the  Lansdale  furniture.  It  was 
typical  of  the  prevailing  stupefaction. 

"  It  seems  that  a  collector  may  be  a  gentleman," 
said  Miss  Caroline,  "but  Mr.  Cohen  wasn't  even  a 
collector! " 

Then  I  told  her  the  considerable  sum  now  to  her 
credit.  She  drew  a  long  breath  and  said,  "Now!" 
and  Clem,  who  stood  by,  almost  cried,  "  Now,  Little 
Miss  !  " 


The   Book   of 
LITTLE   MISS 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    TIME    OF    DREAMS 

I  HAD  Clem  to  myself  for  a  time.  Little  Miss,  it 
seemed,  was  not  yet  rugged  enough  for  travel  into 
the  far  Little  Country.  Nor  was  she  at  once  to  be 
convinced  that  she  might  safely  leave  her  work.  I 
suspect  that  she  had  found  cause  in  the  past  to  rank 
her  mother  with  Clem  as  a  weigher  and  disburser  of 
moneys.  I  noticed  that  she  chose  to  accept  Miss 
Caroline's  earliest  letters  about  their  good  fortune  with 
a  sort  of  half-tolerant  attention,  as  an  elder  listens  to 
the  wonder-tales  of  an  imaginative  child,  or  as  I  had 
long  listened  to  Clem's  own  dreamy-eyed  recital  of 
the  profits  already  his  from  "  brillions  "  of  chickens 
not  yet  come  even  to  the  egg-stage  of  their  careers. 

Not  until  Miss  Caroline  had  ceased  from  large  and 
beauteous  phrases  about  "  the  great  good  fortune  that 
has  befallen  us  in  the  strangest  manner  "  -  not  until 
she  descended  to  actual,  dumfounding  figures  with 
powerful  little  dollar-marks  back  of  them,  did  her 
daughter  seem  to  permit  herself  the  sweet  alarms  of 
hope.  Even  in  that  moment  she  did  not  forget  that 
she  knew  her  own  mother,  for  she  took  the  precau 
tion  to  elicit  a  confirmatory  letter  from  her  mother's 

283 


284  THE   B°SS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

attorney,  under  guise  of  thanking  him  for  the  friendly 
interest  he  had  "  ever  manifested  "  in  the  welfare  of 
the  Lansdales. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  Little  Miss  had  been  en 
dowed,  either  by  nature  or  experience,  with  a  marked 
distrust  of  mere  seemings.  The  impression  conveyed 
to  me  by  her  unenthusiastic  though  skilfully  polite 
letter  was  of  one  who  had  formed  the  habit  of  doubt 
ing  beyond  her  years.  These  I  judged  to  be  twenty- 
eight  or  thereabouts,  while  her  powers  of  restraint 
under  provocation  to  believe  savored  of  more  years 
than  even  her  mother  could  claim.  I  had  myself 
been  compelled  to  note  the  value  of  negative  views, 
save  in  that  inner  and  lonely  world  where  I  abode  of 
nights  and  Sundays ;  I,  too,  had  proved  the  wisdom 
of  much  doubting  as  to  actual,  literal  events ;  but 
Little  Miss  was  making  me  think  of  myself  as  almost 
raw-and-twenty  credulous.  In  a  lawyer's  letter  of 
formal  conciseness,  devoid  of  humanities,  maintaining 
to  the  end  an  atmosphere  of  unemotional  fact  and 
figure  that  descended  not  even  to  conventional  felici 
tations  upon  the  result,  I  therefore  acquainted  Little 
Miss  with  the  situation.  So  nearly  perfect  was  this 
letter  that  it  caused  her  to  refer  to  me,  in  a  later 
communication  to  Miss  Caroline,  as  "  your  dry-and- 
dusty  counting-machine  of  a  lawyer,  who  doubtless 
considers  the  multiplication  table  as  a  cycle  of  son 
nets."  That,  after  I  had  merely  determined  to  meet 
her  palpable  needs  and  had  signed  myself  her  obedi 
ent  servant ! 


THE   TIME   OF   DREAMS  285 

But  I  had  convinced  her.  She  admitted  as  much 
in  words  almost  joyous,  so  that  Miss  Caroline  went 
to  be  with  her  —  to  fetch  her  when  she  should  be 
strong  enough  for  the  adventure  of  travel. 

There  were  three  weeks  of  my  neighbor's  absence  — 
three  weeks  in  which  Clem  "  cleaned  house,"  polished 
the  battered  silver,  "  neated  "  the  rooms,  and  tried  to 
arrange  the  remaining  furniture  so  that  it  would  look 
like  a  great  deal  of  furniture  indeed ;  three  weeks  in 
which  Little  Arcady  again  decked  itself  with  June 
garlands  and  seemed  not,  at  first  glance,  to  belie  its 
rather  pretentious  name ;  three  weeks  when  I  studied 
a  calendar  which  impassively  averred  that  I  was 
thirty-five,  a  mirror  which  added  weight  to  that  testi 
mony,  and  the  game  which  taught  me  with  some 
freshness  at  each  failure  that  the  greater  game  it 
symbolizes  is  not  meant  to  be  won  —  only  to  be  played 
forever  with  as  eager  a  zest,  as  daring  a  hope,  as  if 
victory  were  sure. 

The  season  at  hand  found  me  in  sore  need  of  this 
teaching.  It  was  then  that  errant  impulse  counselled 
rebellion  against  the  decrees  of  calendar  and  looking- 
glass.  If  vatted  wine  in  dark  cellars  turns  in  its  bed 
and  mutters  seethingly  at  this  time,  in  a  mysterious, 
intuitive  sympathy  with  the  blossoming  grape,  a  man 
free  and  above  ground,  with  eyes  to  behold  that  mir 
acle,  may  hardly  hope  to  escape  an  answering  thrill 
to  its  call. 

Wherefore  I  played  the  game  diligently,  torn  by 
the  need  of  its  higher  lessons.  And  at  last  I  was 


286  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

well  instructed  by  it,  as  all  may  be  who  approach  it 
thus,  above  a  trivial  lust  for  winning. 

Two  of  us  played  in  that  provocative  June.  One 
was  myself,  alert  for  auspicious  falls  of  the  cards,  yet 
stoical  and  undepressed  when  a  deal  promising  to  be 
almost  too  easy  for  interest  was  suddenly  blocked 
by  some  trifling  card.  Thus  was  I  schooled  to  ex 
pectations  of  a  wise  shallowness,  not  so  deep  but  that 
they  might  be  overrun  by  the  moderate  flow  of  human 
happiness.  Thus  one  learned  to  expect  little  under 
much  wanting,  and  to  find  his  most  certain  profit  in 
observing  the  freshness  of  those  devices  which  left 
him  frustrate.  Jim,  the  other  player  of  us,  chased 
gluttonous  robins  on  the  lawn,  ever  with  an  indiffer 
ent  success,  but  with  as  undimmed  a  faith,  as  fatuous 
a  certainty,  as  the  earliest  of  gods  could  have  wished 
to  see.  And  between  us  we  achieved  a  conviction 
that  the  greater  game  is  worth  playing,  even  when 
one  has  discovered  its  terrific  percentage  of  failures. 

I  was  not  unpleased  to  be  alone  during  this  period 
of  discipline  when  my  soul  was  perforce  purged  of  its 
troublesome  ferments.  It  was  well  that  my  neighbor 
should  have  gone  where  she  might  distract  me  never 
so  little. 

For  it  was  at  the  season  when  Nature  brews  the 
irresistible  philter.  Always,  I  resolved  to  forego  it 
like  a  man ;  always,  like  a  man,  I  was  overborne  by 
the  ancient  longing,  the  formless  "  heimweh "  that 
haunts  the  hearts  of  the  unmated,  and  which  in  my 
own  case  made  short  work  of  stoic  resolutions.  And, 


THE   TIME   OF   DREAMS  287 

since  the  game  had  taught  me  that  yielding  —  where 
opposition  is  fated  to  avail  not  —  is  graceful  in  pro 
portion  to  its  readiness,  I  surrendered  as  quietly  as 
might  be. 

One  woman  face  had  been  wholly  mine  for  hidden 
cherishing  through  all  the  years.  A  woman  face,  be 
it  understood,  not  the  face  of  a  woman.  At  first  it 
had  been  that;  but  with  the  years  it  had  lost  the 
lines  that  made  it  but  that  one.  Imperceptibly,  it  had 
taken  on  an  alien,  vague  softness  that  but  increased 
its  charm  while  diminishing  its  power  to  hurt. 

It  brought  me  now  only  a  pensive  pleasure  and  no 
feeling  more  acute.  It  was  my  ashes  of  roses,  the 
music  of  my  first  love,  its  poignancies  softened  by 
time  and  memory  into  an  ineffable,  faint  melody ; 
it  was  the  moon  that  drenched  my  bygone  youth  with 
wonder-light  —  a  dream-face,  exquisite  as  running 
water,  unfolding  flowers  and  those  other  sweets  that 
poets  try  in  vain  to  entangle  in  the  meshes  of  word 
and  rhythm. 

This  was  the  face  my  fancy  brought  to  go  with  me 
into  every  June  garden  of  familiar  surprises.  All 
of  which  meant  that  I  was  a  poor  thing  of  clay  and 
many  dolors,  who  still  perversely  made  himself  believe 
that  somewhere  between  him  and  God  was  the  one 
woman,  breathing  and  conscious,  perhaps  even  long 
ing.  More  plainly,  it  meant  that  I  was  a  man  whose 
gift  for  self-fooling  promised  ably  to  survive  his  hair. 
Gravitation  would  presently  pull  down  my  shoulders, 
my  face  would  flaunt  "  the  wrinkled  spoils  of  age," 


288  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

my  voice  would  waver  ominously,  and  I  should  for 
feit  the  dignities  befitting  even  this  decay  by  still 
playing  childish  games  of  belief  with  some  foolish 
dog.  I  would  be  a  village  "  character  "  of  the  sort 
that  is  justly  said  to  "dodder."  And  the  judicious 
would  shun  observation  by  me,  or,  if  it  befell  them, 
would  affect  an  intense  preoccupation  lest  I  halt  and 
dodder  to  them  of  a  past  unromantically  barren. 

There  were  moments  in  which  I  made  no  doubt  of 
all  this.  But  I  fought  them  off  as  foolishly  as  did 
Jim  his  own  intervals  of  clear  seeing.  Sometimes 
in  a  half  doze  he  breathes  a  long,  almost  human 
sigh  of  perfect  and  despairing  comprehension,  as 
if  the  whole  dead  weight  of  his  race's  history 
flashed  upon  him ;  as  if  the  woful  failure  of  his 
species  to  achieve  anything  worth  while,  and  the 
daily  futilities  of  himself  as  an  individual  dog  were 
suddenly  revealed.  In  such  instants  he  knows, 
perhaps,  that  there  is  little  reward  in  being  a  dog, 
unless  you  cheat  yourself  by  believing  more  than 
the  facts  warrant.  But  presently  he  is  up  to  dash 
at  a  bird,  with  a  fine  forgetfulness,  quite  as  startled 
by  the  trick  of  flight  as  in  his  first  days.  And 
I,  envying  him  his  gift  of  credulity,  weakly  strive 
for  it. 

As  I  have  said,  I  had  noted  that  in  these  free  dream- 
ings  of  mine  the  painted  face  above  my  neighbor's 
mantel  seemed  to  have  had  a  place  long  before  I 
looked  upon  its  actual  lines.  This  perplexed  me  not 
a  little;  that  the  face  should  seem  to  have  been 


THE   TIME   OF  DREAMS  289 

familiar  before  I  had  seen  it  —  the  portrait,  that  it 
should  have  blended  with  and  then  almost  replaced 
another's,  so  that  now  the  woman  face  I  saw  was 
eloquent  of  two,  though  fittingly  harmonized  in  itself. 
Must  I  lay  to  the  philter's  magic  this  audacious 
notion;  that  the  face  of  Little  Miss  had  tangibly 
come  to  me  in  some  night  of  the  mind  ?  Sober,  I  was 
loath  to  commit  this  absurdity ;  but  breasting  drunk- 
enly  that  tide  of  dreams,  it  ceased  to  be  absurd. 

And  so  I  had  plunged  into  the  current  again  one 
early  evening  when  the  growing  things  seemed  to 
have  stopped  reluctantly  for  rest,  when  the  robins 
had  fluted  of  their  household  duties  the  last  time  for 
the  day,  and  when  only  the  songs  of  children  at  a 
game  were  brought  to  me  from  a  neighboring  yard. 

Unconsciously  my  thoughts  fell  into  the  rhythm  of 
this  song,  with  the  result  that  I  presently  listened  to 
catch  its  words  —  faint,  childish,  laughing,  yet  musical 
in  the  scented  dusk  :  — 

"  King  William  was  King  James's  son  and  from  the  royal  race 

he  sprung  ; 
Upon  his  breast  he  wore  a  star  that  showed  the  royal  points 

of  war. 
Go  choose  your  east  and  choose  your  west,  and  choose  the  one 

that  you  love  best. 
If  she's  not  here  to  take  your  part,  go  choose  another  with  all 

your  heart. 
Down  on  this  carpet  you  must  kneel,  low  as  the  grass  grows  in 

yon  field. 
Salute  your  bride  and  kiss  her  sweet,  and  then  arise  upon  your 

feet." 


290  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

The  sentiment  was  ill  suited  to  my  own  at  the 
moment,  but  the  raw-voiced  little  singers  appealed  to 
my  ears  not  unpleasantly.  Again  the  verse  came  — 

"If  she's  not  here  to  take  your  part — go  choose  another  with 
all  your  heart ! " 

I  heard  wheels  then,  nearer  than  the  singing,  — 
the  clumsy  rumble  of  our  big  yellow  'bus.  Voices 
were  borne  to  me,  —  Clem's  voice,  Miss  Caroline's 
and  another  not  like  her's,  a  voice  firmer,  yet  a  dusky- 
warm  woman's  voice.  That  was  all  I  could  think  of 
at  the  time  :  perhaps  the  night  suggested  it ;  they 
had  qualities  in  common.  It  was  a  woman's  voice, 
but  a  determined  woman's.  I  knew  of  course  that 
Little  Miss  had  come.  But  also  I  knew  at  once  — 
this  being  her  voice  —  that  it  would  not  be  in  my 
power  to  call  her  Little  Miss. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE    STRAIN    OF    PEAVEY 

IT  was  too  true  that  I  could  not  call  her  "  Little 
Miss,"  as  I  had  lightly  called  her  mother  "  Miss 
Caroline  "  at  our  first  encounter.  Of  a  dusky  pallor 
was  Miss  Lansdale  when  I  first  beheld  her  under  the 
night  of  her  hair.  As  the  waning  light  showed  me 
her,  I  thought  of  a  blossomed  young  sloe  tree  in 
her  own  far  valley  of  the  Old  Dominion.  Closer 
to  her  I  could  note  only  that  she  was  dark  but  fair, 
for  observations  of  this  character  became,  for  some 
reason,  impracticable  in  her  immediate  presence. 

She  greeted  me  kindly,  as  her  mother's  lawyer  ; 
she  was  cordial  to  me  a  moment,  as  her  mother's 
friend ;  but  later,  when  these  debts  of  civility  had 
been  duly  paid,  when  we  had  gone  from  the  outer 
dusk  into  candle  light,  she  favored  me  only  with 
occasional  glances  of  the  mildest  curiosity,  in  which 
was  neither  kindness  nor  cordiality.  Not  that  these 
had  given  way  to  their  opposites ;  they  were  simply 
not  there.  Not  the  faintest  hint  of  unfriendliness 
could  I  detect.  Miss  Lansdale  had  merely  detached 
herself  into  a  magnificent  void  of  disinterest,  from 
the  centre  of  which  she  surveyed  me  without  preju 
dice  in  moments  when  her  glance  could  not  be  better 
occupied. 

291 


292  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

I  have  caught  much  the  same  look  in  the  eyes  of 
twelve  bored  jurymen  who  were,  nevertheless,  bound 
to  give  my  remarks  their  impartial  attention.  Some 
times  one  may  know  from  the  look  of  these  twelve 
that  one's  case  is  already  as  good  as  lost ;  or,  at  least, 
that  an  opinion  has  been  reached  which  new  and 
important  testimony  will  be  required  to  change. 

It  occurred  to  me  as  my  call  wore  on  that  I  caught 
even  a  hint  of  this  prejudgment  in  the  eyes  of  the 
young  woman.  It  put  me  sorely  at  a  disadvantage, 
for  I  knew  not  what  I  was  expected  to  prove ;  knew 
not  if  I  were  on  trial  as  her  mother's  lawyer,  her 
mother's  friend,  or  as  a  mere  man.  The  latter 
seemed  improbable  as  an  offence,  for  was  not  my 
judge  a  daughter  of  Miss  Caroline?  And  yet, 
strangely  enough,  I  came  to  think  that  this  must 
be  my  offence  —  that  I  was  a  man.  She  made  me 
feel  this  in  her  careless,  incidental  glances,  her 
manner  of  turning  briskly  from  me  to  address  her 
mother  with  a  warmer  show  of  interest  than  I  had 
been  able  to  provoke. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  opportune  to  remember  at  the 
moment  that,  while  this  alleged  Little  Miss  was  the 
daughter  of  Miss  Caroline,  she  was  likewise  —  and 
even  more  palpably,  as  I  could  note  by  fugitive  swift 
glimpses  of  her  face  —  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman 
whose  metal  had  been  often  tried ;  one  who  had  won 
his  reputation  as  much  by  self-possession  under  diffi 
culties  as  by  the  militant  spirit  that  incurred  them. 

"  Kate  has  little   of   the    Peavey  in  her,  —  she   is 


THE   STRAIN   OF   PEAVEY  293 

every  inch  a  Lansdale,"  Miss  Caroline  found  occa 
sion  to  say ;  while  I,  thus  provided  with  an  excuse  to 
look,  remarked  to  myself  that  her  inches,  while  not 
excessive,  were  unusually  meritorious. 

"Worse  than  that  —  she's  a  Jere  Lansdale,"  was 
my  response,  though  I  tactfully  left  it  unuttered 
for  an  "Indeed?"  that  seemed  less  emotional.  I 
could  voice  my  deeper  conviction  not  more  explicitly 
than  by  saying  further  to  Miss  Caroline,  "  Perhaps 
that  explains  why  she  has  the  effect  of  making  her 
mother  seem  positively  immature." 

"  My  mother  is  positively  immature,"  remarked  the 
daughter,  with  the  air  of  telling  something  she  had 
found  out  long  since. 

"Then  perhaps  the  other  is  the  false  effect,"  I 
ventured.  "  It  is  your  mother's,  immaturity  that 
makes  you  seem  so  — "  I  thought  it  kind  to  hesi 
tate  for  the  word,  but  Miss  Lansdale  said,  again 
confidently :  — 

"  Oh,  but  I  really  am"  and  this  with  a  finality  that 
seemed  to  close  the  incident. 

Her  voice  had  the  warm  little  roughness  of  a 
thrush's,  which  sings  through  a  throat  that  is  loosely 
strung  with  wires  of  soft  gold. 

"  In  my  day,"  began  Miss  Caroline ;  but  here  I 
rebelled,  no  longer  perceiving  any  good  reason  to 
be  overborne  by  her  daughter.  I  could  endure  only 
a  certain  amount  of  that. 

"Your  day  is  to-day,"  I  interrupted,  "and  to 
morrow  and  many  to-morrows.  You  are  a  woman 


294  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

bereft  of  all  her  yesterdays.  Let  your  daughter  have 
had  her  day  —  let  her  have  come  to  an  incredible 
maturity.  But  you  stay  here  in  to-day  with  me. 
We  won't  be  fit  companions  for  her,  but  she  shall 
not  lack  for  company.  Uncle  Jerry  Honeycutt  is 
now  ninety-four,  and  he  has  a  splendid  new  ear- 
trumpet —  he  will  be  rarely  diverting  for  Miss 
Lansdale." 

But  the  daughter  remained  as  indifferent  to  taunts 
as  she  had  been  to  my  friendly  advances.  It  occurred 
to  me  now  that  her  self-possession  was  remarkable. 
It  was  little  short  of  threatening  if  one  regarded  her 
too  closely.  I  wondered  if  this  could  really  be  an 
inheritance  from  her  well-nerved  father  or  the  result 
of  her  years  as  teacher  in  a  finishing  school  for 
young  ladies.  I  was  tempted  to  suspect  the  latter, 
for,  physically,  the  creature  was  by  no  means  formid 
able.  Perhaps  an  inch  or  two  taller  than  her  mother, 
she  was  of  a  marked  slenderness ;  a  completed  slender- 
ness,  I  might  say  —  a  slenderness  so  palpably  finished 
as  to  details  that  I  can  only  describe  it  as  felicitous 
in  the  extreme.  It  seemed  almost  certain  that  her 
appearance  had  once  been  disarming,  that  the  threat 
in  her  eye-flash  and  tilted  head  was  a  trick  learned 
by  contact  with  many  young  ladies  who  needed  fin 
ishing  more  than  they  would  admit. 

Of  course  this  did  not  explain  why  Miss  Lansdale 
should  visually  but  patently  disparage  me  at  this 
moment.  I  was  by  no  means  an  unfinished  young 
lady,  and,  in  any  event,  she  should  have  left  all  that 


THE   STRAIN   OF   PEAVEY  295 

behind ;  the  moment  was  one  wherein  relaxation 
would  have  been  not  only  graceful  but  entirely  safe, 
for  she  was  in  no  manner  to  be  held  accountable  for 
my  conduct. 

Yet  again  and  again  her  curious  reserve  congealed 
me  back  upon  the  stanch  regard  of  Miss  Caroline. 
My  passion  for  that  sprightly  dame  and  her  gracious 
acceptance  of  it  were  happily  not  to  deteriorate  under 
the  regard  of  any  possible  daughter,  however  egre- 
giously  might  we  flaunt  to  her  trained  eye  our  need 
to  be  "  finished." 

The  newcomer's  reserve  was  indeed  pregnable  to 
no  assault  I  could  devise.  Not  even  did  she  lighten 
when  I  said  to  her  mother,  in  open  mockery  of  that 
reserve,  "  Well,  she  cost  you  a  lot  of  furniture  that 
was  really  most  companionable  about  the  house," 
and  paused  with  a  sigh  betokening  a  regretful  com 
parison  of  values.  That  lance  shattered  against  her 
Lansdale  shield  like  all  the  others. 

Ending  my  call,  I  felt  vividly  what  I  have  else 
where  seen  described  as  "the  cosmic  chill."  The 
small,  mighty,  night-eyed,  well-completed  Miss  Lans 
dale,  with  the  voice  of  a  golden  jangle,  had  frozen  it 
about  me  in  lavish  abundance. 

I  went  home  to  play  the  game,  until  my  eyes  tired 
so  that  the  face  of  king,  queen,  and  knave  leered  at 
me  in  defeat  or  simpered  sickeningly  when  I  was  able 
to  shape  their  destinies.  Thrice  I  lost  interestingly 
and  with  profit  to  my  soul,  and  once  I  won,  though 
without  elation,  for  we  know  that  little  skill  may  be 


296  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

needed  to  win  when  the  cards  fall  right ;  whereas,  to 
lose  profitably  is  a  mark  of  supreme  merit. 

Even  after  that  I  must  have  recourse  to  the  wonted 
philter  to  bring  sleep,  the  face  of  my  vision  being 
unaccountably  the  face  of  the  true  Little  Miss  before 
she  had  evolved  into  Miss  Lansdale  of  the  threaten 
ing  self-possession.  I  refused  to  bother  about  the 
absurdity  of  this,  for  the  sake  of  bringing  sleep  the 
sooner. 

I  was  privileged  to  observe  the  following  day  that 
my  neighbor's  daughter  was  still  of  a  dusky  white 
ness,  the  baffling,  shaded  whiteness  of  soft  new  snow 
in  a  cedar  thicket.  Incidentally  she  partook  of  an 
other  quality  of  soft  new  snow  —  one  by  no  means 
so  incommunicable. 

And  yet  in  sunlight  I  incurred  the  full,  close  look 
of  her  eyes,  and  no  longer  doubted  the  presence  of  a 
Peavey  strain  in  her  immediate  ancestry.  Far  in 
their  incalculable  depths  I  saw  a  myriad  of  lights, 
brown-gold,  that  smouldered,  ominously,  even  promis 
ingly.  It  might  never  meet  this  young  woman's 
caprice  to  be  flagrantly  a  Peavey  in  my  presence,  but 
her  capacity  for  this,  if  she  chose  to  exercise  it,  I 
detected  beyond  a  doubt.  She  was  patently  a 
daughter  of  Miss  Caroline,  and  the  cosmic  chill  had 
been  an  afterthought  of  her  own. 

She  did  me  the  honor,  late  in  the  afternoon  of  this 
day,  to  occupy  an  easy-chair  within  my  vined  porch. 
She  went  farther.  She  affected  a  polite  interest  in 
myself.  But  her  craft  was  crude.  I  detected  at  once 


THE  STRAIN  OF  PEAVEY  297 

that  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  my  dog;  that  she 
came  not  to  seek  me,  but  to  follow  him,  who  had 
raced  joyously  from  her  at  his  first  knowledge  of  my 
home-coming. 

I  was  secretly  proud  of  the  exquisite  thoroughness 
with  which  he  now  ignored  her.  Again  and  again 
he  assured  me  in  her  very  presence  that  the  woman 
was  nothing,  could  be  nothing,  to  him.  I  knew  this 
well  enough  —  I  needed  no  protestations  from  him  ; 
but  I  thought  it  was  well  that  she  should  know  it. 
I  saw  that  he  had  probably  consented  to  receive  her 
addresses  through  a  long  afternoon,  had  perhaps 
eaten  of  her  provender,  and  even  behaved  with  a 
complaisance  which  could  have  led  her  to  hope  that 
some  day  she  might  be  something  to  him.  But  I 
knew  that  he  had  not  persistently  faced  the  peril  of 
being  trampled  to  death  by  me  in  his  pulpy  infancy 
—  so  great  his  fear  of  our  separation  —  to  let  a  mere 
woman  come  between  us  at  this  day.  And  it  was 
well  that  he  should  now  tell  her  this  in  the  plainest 
of  words. 

The  woman  seemed  to  view  me  with  an  increased 
respect  from  that  very  moment.  She  tried  first  to 
bring  Jim  to  her  side  by  a  soft  call  that  almost  made 
me  tremble  for  his  integrity.  But  he  did  not  so  much 
as  turn  his  head.  His  eyes  were  for  me  alone.  With 
a  rubber  shoe  flung  gallantly  over  his  shoulder,  he 
danced  incitingly  before  me,  praying  that  I  would 
pretend  to  be  crazed  by  the  sight  of  his  prize  and 
seek  to  wrench  it  from  him. 


298  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

But  I  pretended  instead  to  be  bored  by  his  impor 
tunities,  choosing  to  rub  it  in.  To  her  who  longed 
for  his  friendly  notice,  —  a  little  throaty  bark,  a  lift  of 
the  paw,  perhaps  a  winsome  laying  of  his  head  along 
her  lap,  —  I  affected  indifference  to  his  infatuation 
for  me.  I  pretended  always  to  have  been  a  perfect 
devil  of  a  fellow  among  the  dogs,  and  professed  loftily 
not  to  have  divined  the  secret  of  my  innumerable 
and  unvarying  conquests. 

"  Dogs  are  so  foolishly  faithful,"  remarked  Miss 
Lansdale,  with  polite  acerbity. 

"  I  know  it,"  I  conceded  ;  "that  fellow  thinks  I  am 
the  most  beautiful  person  in  all  the  world." 

She  said  "  Indeed  ? "  with  an  inflection  and  a 
sweeping  glance  at  me  which  I  found  charged  with 
meaning.  But  I  knew  well  enough  that  I  had  for 
all  time  mastered  a  certain  measure  of  her  difficult 
respect. 

"And  he's  such  a  fine  dog,  too,"  she  added  in  a 
tone  intended  to  convey  to  me  the  full  extent  of  her 
pity  for  him. 

"  I  have  him  remarkably  well  trained,"  I  said.  "  I 
can  often  force  him  to  notice  people  whom  I  like, 
especially  if  they  are  clever  enough  to  let  him  see 
that  they  like  me  rather  well." 

"  It  would  be  almost  worth  while,"  she  remarked 
with  a  longing  look  at  Jim  but  none  at  me. 

"  Many  have  found  it  quite  so,"  I  said,  ordering 
Jim  to  charge  at  my  feet,  "  but  it's  a  great  bore,  I 
assure  you." 


THE   STRAIN   OF   PEAVEY  299 

I  needed  not  to  be  told  that  she  envied  me  my 
power,  and  so  deep  and  genuine  appeared  to  be  her 
love  for  him  that  secretly  I  hoped  he  would  again  be 
amiable  to  her  during  my  absence  on  the  morrow. 
The  contrast  of  his  manner  on  my  return  would 
further  chasten  her. 

From  the  porch  we  both  watched  her  move  across 
the  little  stretch  of  lawn,  and,  at  my  whispered  sug 
gestion,  Jim  rose  to  his  feet  and  barked  her  insult 
ingly  over  the  last  twenty  feet  of  it.  I  was  delighted 
to  note  that  this  induced  a  shamed  acceleration  of  her 
pace  and  a  tighter  clutching  of  her  skirts.  I  thought 
it  important  to  let  her  know  clearly  and  at  once  just 
who  was  the  master  in  my  own  house. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE    LOYALTY    OF   JIM 

IF  it  must  be  my  lot  to  dream  out  a  life  of  insub 
stantial  visions,  that  were  well.  But  it  appeared  not 
unreasonable  that  I  should  keep  at  least  one  ponder 
able  dog  by  me,  as  an  emblem  of  something  I  had 
missed  through  one  too  many  shuffle  of  the  cards 
before  this  big  game  began.  Yet  Miss  Lansdale  had 
clearly  resolved  to  deprive  my  dreaming  of  even  this 
slight  support  of  realness.  I  tried  always  to  remem 
ber,  in  her  behalf,  that  she  did  not  know  the  circum 
stances,  and  she  herself  very  soon  discovered  that 
she  did  not  know  Jim.  The  assaults  she  made 
upon  his  fidelity  proved  her  to  be  past-mistress  of 
tactics  and  strategy.  No  possible  approach  to  his 
heart  did  she  leave  untried.  She  flattered  and  petted, 
lured,  cajoled,  entreated ;  she  menaced,  commanded, 
stormed,  raged.  Drawing  inspiration  from  a  siege 
celebrated  in  antiquity,  she  sought  to  secrete  her 
forces  —  not  in  a  horse  of  wood,  but  within  the 
frames  of  numerous  fowl,  picked  to  the  bone  but 
shredded  over  so  temptingly  with  fugitive  succulence 
as  to  have  made  a  dog  of  feelings  less  fine  her  slave 

for  life. 

300 


THE   LOYALTY   OF  JIM  301 

It  was  not  until  the  desperate  woman  had,  in 
the  terminology  of  Billy  Durgin,  been  "baffled  and 
beaten  at  every  turn,"  that  I  could  get  into  communi 
cation  with  her  on  a  basis  at  all  acceptable  to  a  free- 
necked  man.  Having  proved  to  the  last  resource  of 
her  ingenuity  that  Jim  was  more  than  human  in  his 
loyalty,  she  seemed  disposed  to  admit,  though  grudg 
ingly  enough,  that  I  myself  might  be  not  less  than 
human  to  have  won  him  so  utterly.  And  thereafter 
I  found  it  often  practicable  to  associate  with  her  on 
terms  of  apparent  equality. 

She  surrendered,  I  believe,  on  a  day  when  she  had 
thought  to  lure  Jim  into  her  boat,  —  fatuously,  for 
was  I  not  a  distinguishable  figure  in  the  landscape  ? 
Her  hopes  must  have  been  high,  for  she  had  but 
lately  repleted  him  with  chicken-bones  divinely  crunch- 
able,  and  then  bestowed  upon  him  a  charlotte  russe, 
an  unnatural  taste  for  which  she  had  succeeded  in 
teaching  him. 

With  something  of  a  swagger,  —  she  swaggered  in 
a  rather  starchy  white  dress  that  day,  and  under  a 
garden  hat  of  broad  rim,  —  she  had  enticed  him  to 
the  water's  edge,  so  that  I  must  have  been  nervous 
but  for  knowing  the  dog  through  and  through. 

Her  failure  was  so  crushing,  so  swift,  so  entire, 
that  for  an  instant  I  almost  failed  to  rejoice  in  her 
open  humiliation.  Seated  in  the  boat,  oars  poised, 
she  invited  Jim  with  soft  speech  and  a  smile  that 
might  have  moved  an  iron  dog  without  occasioning 
any  remark  from  me  ;  but  Jim,  noting,  with  one  paw 


302  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

already  in  the  boat,  that  I  was  not  to  be  of  the  party, 
turned  quickly  from  her  and  came  to  me  with  his 
head  down.  His  informing  and  well-feathered  tail 
signalled  to  Miss  Lansdale  that  she  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  herself. 

At  that  moment,  I  think,  the  woman  abandoned 
all  her  preposterous  hopes ;  then,  too,  I  think,  she 
learned  the  last  and  bitterest  lesson  which  great 
fighters  must  learn,  to  embellish  defeat  with  an  air 
of  urbane  acceptance.  Miss  Lansdale  relaxed  —  she 
melted  before  my  eyes  to  an  aspect  that  no  victor 
who  knew  his  business  could  afford  to  despise. 

I  clambered  in.  Jim  followed,  remarking  amiably 
to  the  woman  as  he  passed  her  on  his  way  to  the 
bow  of  the  boat,  "  I  thought  you  couldn't  have  meant 
that!" 

And  Defeat  rowed  Jim  and  me ;  rowed  us  past  the 
feathered  marge  of  green  islands  quite  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  But  I  knew  it  had  happened,  for 
Miss  Lansdale  was  so  nearly  human  that  I  presently 
found  myself  thinking  "  Miss  Kate"  of  her.  She  not 
only  answered  questions,  but,  what  amazed  me  far 
more,  she  condescended  to  ask  them  now  and  then. 
To  an  observer  we  might  have  seemed  to  be  holding 
speech  of  an  actual  friendliness  —  speech  of  the  water 
and  the  day  ;  of  herself  and  the  dog  and  a  little  of 
me. 

At  length,  as  I  caught  an  overhanging  willow  to 
rest  her  arms  a  moment,  I  felt  bold  enough  to  ven 
ture  words  about  this  assumption  of  amity  which  was 


THE   LOYALTY   OF   JIM  303 

so  becoming  in  her.  I  even  confessed  that  she  was 
reminding  me  of  certain  distinguished  but  truly  ami 
able  personages  who  are  commonly  to  be  found  in 
the  side-show  adjacent  to  the  main  tent.  "  Particu 
larly  of  the  wild  man,"  I  said,  to  be  more  specific, 
for  my  listener  seemed  at  once  to  crave  details. 

"  There  is  a  powerfully  painted  banner  swelling  in 
the  breeze  outside,  you  know.  It  shows  the  wild 
man  in  all  his  untamed  ferocity,  in  his  native  jungle, 
armed  with  a  simple  but  rather  promising  club.  A 
dozen  intrepid  tars  from  a  British  man-of-war  —  to 
be  seen  in  the  offing — are  in  the  act  of  casting  a 
net  over  him.  It's  an  exciting  picture,  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Lansdale.  The  net  looks  flimsy,  and  the  wild 
person  is  not  only  enraged  but  very  muscular  —  " 

"  I  fail  to  see,"  she  interrupted,  with  a  slight  lapse 
into  what  I  may  call  her  first,  or  Lansdale,  manner. 

"  Of  course  you  fail !  You  have  to  go  inside  to 
see,"  I  explained  kindly.  "  But  it  only  costs  a  dime, 
which  is  little  enough  —  the  hired  enthusiast,  indeed, 
stationed  just  outside  the  entrance,  reminds  us  over 
and  over  again  that  it  is  only  '  the  tenth  part  of  a 
dollar/  and  he  sometimes  adds  that  '  it  will  neither 
make  nor  break  nor  set  a  man  up  in  business.'  He 
is  a  flagrant  optimist  in  small  money  matters,  ever 
looking  on  the  bright  side." 

"  Inside  ? "  suggested  my  listener,  with  some  im 
patience.  I  had  regretted  my  beginning  and  had 
meant  to  shirk  a  finish  if  she  would  let  me ;  but  it 
seemed  I  must  go  on. 


304  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"Well,  inside  there's  a  hand-organ  going  all  the 
time,  you  know  — 

"  The  wild  man  ?  "  she  insisted,  like  a  child  looking 
ahead  for  the  real  meat  of  the  story  one  is  telling  it 

"  I'm  getting  to  him  as  fast  as  I  consistently  can. 
The  wild  man  sits  tamely  in  a  cheap  chair  on  a  plat 
form,  with  a  row  of  his  photographs  spread  charm 
ingly  at  his  feet.  Of  course  you  are  certain  at  once 
that  he  is  no  longer  wild.  You  know  that  a  wild 
man  whose  spirit  had  not  been  utterly  broken  would 
never  sit  there  and  listen  to  that  hand-organ  eight 
hours  every  day  except  Sunday.  The  fluent  and 
polished  gentleman  in  charge  —  who  has  a  dyed 
mustache  —  assures  us  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  this  'once  ferocious  monster  of  the  tropic  jungle, 
with  his  bestial  craving  for  human  flesh,'  but  that 
seems  a  mere  matter  of  form,  with  the  hand-organ 
going  in  our  ears  — 

"  Really,"  Miss  Lansdale  began  —  or  tried  to. 

"  One  moment,  please  !  The  scholarly  person  goes 
on  to  relate  the  circumstances  of  the  wild  person's  cap 
ture — substantially  as  depicted  upon  the  canvas  out 
side — and  winds  up  with:  'After  being  brought  to  this 
country  in  chains  he  was  reclaimed  from  his  savage 
estate,  was  given  a  good  English  education,  and  can 
now  converse  intelligently  upon  all  the  leading  topics 
of  the  day.  Step  up,  ladies  and  gentlemen,'  he  con 
cludes,  with  a  rather  pointed  delicacy,  '  and  you  will 
find  him  ready  and  willing  to  answer  all  proper 
questions.'  ' 


THE    LOYALTY   OF  JIM  305 

Miss  Lansdale  dropped  her  oars  into  the  water, 
dully,  I  thought.  I  released  the  willow  that  had 
moored  us,  but  I  persisted. 

"  And  he  always  does  answer  all  proper  questions, 
just  as  the  gentleman  said  he  would.  Doubtless  an 
improper  question  would  be  to  ask  him  if  he  weren't 
born  tame  on  our  own  soil,  of  reputable  New  England 
parents ;  but  I  don't  know.  I  have  always  conducted 
myself  in  his  presence  as  a  gentleman  must,  with  the 
result  that  he  has  never  failed  to  be  chatty.  He  is  a 
trifle  condescending,  to  be  sure ;  he  does  not  forget 
the  difference  in  our  stations,  but  he  does  not  permit 
himself  to  study  me  with  eyes  of  blank  indifference, 
nor  is  he  reticent  to  the  verge  of  hostility.  Of  course 
he  feels  indifferent  to  me,  —  nothing  else  could  be 
expected,  —  but  his  captors  have  taught  him  to  be 
gracious  in  public.  And,  really,  Miss  Lansdale,  you 
seemed  strangely  tame  and  broken  to-day  yourself. 
You  have  not  only  received  a  good  English  education, 
but  you  answer  all  proper  questions  with  a  condescen 
sion  hardly  more  marked  than  that  of  the  wild  person's. 
I  can  only  pray  you  won't  resume  a  manner  that  will 
inevitably  recall  him  to  me  to  your  own  disadvantage." 

She  rowed  in  silence  against  the  gentle  current,  but 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  me  with  a  look  that  was  not  all 
Lansdale.  There  was  Peavey  in  it.  And  she  smiled. 
I  had  seen  her  smile  before,  but  never  before  had  she 
seen  me  at  those  times.  That  she  should  now  smile 
for  and  at  me  seemed  to  be  a  circumstance  little  short 
of  epoch-making. 


306  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

I  cannot  affirm  that  there  was  even  one  moment  of 
that  curiously  short  afternoon  when  she  became  wholly 
and  frankly  a  Peavey.  But  more  than  once  did  this 
felicity  seem  to  impend,  and  I  suspected  that  she 
might  even  have  been  more  graciously  endowed  than 
with  a  mere  Peavey  capacity  in  general.  I  believed 
that  if  she  chose,  she  might  almost  become  a  Miss 
Caroline  Peavey.  This  occurred  to  me  when  she 
said  :  — 

"  I  only  brought  you  along  for  your  dog." 

It  was,  of  course,  quite  like  a  Lansdale  to  do  that ; 
but  much  liker  a  Peavey  to  tell  it,  with  that  brief 
poise  of  the  opened  eyes  upon  one's  own. 

"  Don't  hold  it  against  Jim,"  I  pleaded.  "  It's  my 
fault.  I'm  obliged  to  be  most  careful  about  his  asso 
ciates.  I've  brought  him  up  on  a  system." 

"  Indeed  ?  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  why 
you  object—  "  she  bridled  with  a  challenge  almost 
Miss  Caroline  in  its  flippancy. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,  I  have  to  make  sure  that  he 
doesn't  become  worldly.  Lots  of  good  dogs  are 
spoiled  that  way.  And  I've  succeeded  very  well, 
thus  far.  To  this  moment  he  believes  everything  is 
true  that  ought  to  be  true ;  or,  if  not,  that  something 
'just  as  good'  is  true,  as  the  people  in  drug  stores 
tell  one." 

"And  you  are  afraid  of  me  —  that  I'll  —  " 

"  One  can't  be  too  careful  about  dogs,  especially 
one  that  believes  as  much  as  that  one  does.  Frankly, 
I  am  afraid  of  you.  You  have  such  a  knowing 


THE   LOYALTY   OF   JIM  307 

way  of   fighting    off   moments   that    might   become 
Peavey." 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  — 

"  Of  course  you  don't,  but  that's  of  little  conse 
quence  —  to  Jim.  He  doesn't  understand  either. 
But  you  see  he  has  a  fine  faith  now  that  the  world 
is  all  Peavey  —  he  learned  it  from  me.  Of  course,  I 
know  better,  but  I  pretend  not  to,  and  often  I  can  fool 
myself  for  half  an  hour  at  a  time.  And  of  course  I 
shouldn't  care  to  have  that  dog  find  out  that  this 
apparently  Peavey  world  —  flawlessly  Peavey  —  has 
a  streak  of  Lansdale  running  through  it  —  that  it  has 
even  its  moments  of  curious,  hard  suspicion,  of  dis 
trust,  of  downright  disbelief  in  all  the  good  things,  — 
in  short,  its  Miss  Katherine  Lansdale  moments,  if  you 
will  pardon  that  hastily  contrived  metaphor." 

Perceiving  that  further  concealment  would  be  una 
vailing,  I  added  quite  openly  :  "  Now,  young  woman, 
you  see  that  I  know  your  secret.  I  felt  it  in  the  dark 
of  our  first  meeting  ;  it  has  since  become  plainer,  — 
too  plain.  You  know  too  much  —  far  more  than  is 
good  for  either  Jim  or  me  to  know.  You  can't  be 
lieve  enough  —  all  those  things  that  Jim  and  I  have 
found  it  best  to  believe.  I  myself  always  fear  that 
I  shall  be  led  into  ways  of  unbelief  in  your  presence. 
That  is  why  I  can't  trust  Jim  with  you  alone,  and 
why  I  could  hardly  trust  myself  there  without  Jim's 
sustaining  looks  —  that  is  why,  in  fact,  that  I  shall 
try  to  shun  you  in  all  but  your  approximately  Peavey 
moments.  I  trust  now  that  this  shall  be  the  last 


308  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

time  I  must  ever  speak  bitterly  in  your  presence. 
You  are  sufficiently  warned." 

While  I  spoke  she  had  ceased  rowing,  and  we 
drifted  with  the  current.  A  long  time  we  drifted, 
and  I  rejoiced  to  see  that  I  had  taunted  Miss  Lans- 
dale  into  something  like  interest.  I  saw  that  she  was 
uncertain  as  to  the  degree  of  seriousness  I  had  meant 
my  words  to  convey.  Once  she  began  as  if  they 
were  wholly  serious,  and  once  again  as  if  they  had 
been  wholly  unserious.  If  she  at  last  appeared  to 
suspect  that  she  must  effect  a  compromise,  I  dare  say 
she  was  as  nearly  correct  as  I  could  have  put  her  with 
any  words  I  knew. 

"  But  you  had  that  dog  from  the  first,"  she  at 
length  decided  to  say,  clearly  in  self-defence,  "  and 
still  you  are  worried  and  obliged  to  guard  him  from 
evil  companions." 

"  You  confess,"  I  exclaimed  in  triumph. 

"  You  had  him  as  a  puppy.  Could  you  have 
expected  so  much  of  him  if  he  had  run  wild,  in  a 
world  where  any  number  of  good  dogs  learn  unbelief, 
where  they  are  shocked  into  it,  all  in  a  moment  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  have  myself  from  the  first,"  I  reminded 
her,  "  and  I  believe  only  a  few  trifles  less  than  Jim 
does.  I  know  that  robins  ascend  without  visible 
means,  for  example,  if  you  run  at  them ;  but  I  believe 
it's  good  to  run  at  them  just  the  same,  even  more 
enjoyable  than  if  they  sat  still  to  be  caught." 

"  We  were  speaking  of  dogs,"  said  Miss  Lansdale. 
"At  any  rate  Jim  had  you  from  the  first." 


THE   LOYALTY    OF  JIM  309 

"  Let  us  keep  to  dogs,  then,"  I  answered.  "  Mean 
time,  if  you  listen  to  me,  you'll  soon  be  in  deep  water, 
when  we've  both  lost  the  taste  for  adventure.  This 
current  will  take  us  over  the  dam  in  about  seven 
minutes,  I  should  judge." 

She  fell  to  the  oars  again  with  a  dreaming  face, 
in  which  Lansdale  and  the  other  were  so  well  blended 
that  it  was  indeed  the  face  of  visions  that  had  long 
been  coming  to  me. 

"  You  remind  me  again  of  the  wild  gentleman,"  I 
said,  after  a  long  look  at  her,  a  look  which  she  was 
good  enough  to  let  me  see  that  she  observed. 

"  Et  ego  in  Arcadia  vixi — and  I,  too,  was  netted 
in  my  native  jungle." 

I  saw  that  she,  too,  essayed  the  feat  of  being  both 
light  and  serious  without  letting  the  seam  show. 

"  I  mean  about  pictures,"  I  explained.  "  The 
gentlemanly  curator  of  the  side-show  always  says  of 
the  wild  man  thoughtfully,  '  I  believe  he  has  a  few 
photographs  for  sale.'  He  is  always  right  —  the  wild 
man  does  have  them,  though  I  should  not  care  to  say 
that  they're  worth  the  money ;  that  depends  upon 
one's  tastes,  of  course  —  by  the  way,  Miss  Lansdale, 
I  have  long  had  a  picture  of  you." 

"  Has  mother  —  " 

"  No  —  long  before  I  became  a  fellow-slave  with 
Clem — long  before  there  was  a  juvenile  mother  or 
even  a  Clem  in  Little  Arcady." 

"  May  I  ask  how  you  got  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  you  may  !     I  don't  know." 


310  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"May  I  see  it?"  I  thought  she  felt  a  deeper 
interest  than  she  cared  to  reveal. 

"  Unfortunately,  no.     If  you  only  could  see  it,  you 
would   see   that   it   is   almost   a   perfect   likeness  — 
perhaps  a  bit  more  Little  Miss  than  you  could  be 
now  —  but  it's  unmistakably  true." 

"  I  lost  such  a  picture  once,"  she  said  with  a  fall  of 
her  eyes.  "  Where  is  the  one  you  have  ? " 

"  Sometimes  it's  behind  my  eyes  and  sometimes  it 
is  out  before  them." 

"  Nonsense !  " 

"  To  be  sure  !  Only  Jim  and  I,  trained  and  hard 
ened  in  the  ways  of  belief,  are  equal  to  a  feat  of  that 
sort." 

"  I  see  no  merit  in  believing  that." 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is,  especially  —  not  in 
believing  this  particular  thing,  but  the  power  for 
belief  in  general  which  it  implies  —  you  see  I  am  un 
prejudiced." 

"  Why  should  you  want  to  believe  it?  " 

I  should  have  known,  without  catching  the  glint  of 
her  eyes  under  the  hat  brim,  that  a  Peavey  spoke 
there. 

"  If  you  could  see  the  thing  once,  you'd  under 
stand,"  I  said,  an  answer,  of  course,  fit  only  for  a 
Peavey. 

"At  all  events,  you'll  not  keep  it  long."  The 
words  were  Peavey  enough,  but  the  voice  was  rather 
curiously  Lansdale. 

"  I  have  made  as  little  effort  to  keep  it  as  I  did  to 


THE   LOYALTY   OF  JIM  311 

acquire  it,"  I  said,  "but  it  stays  on,  and  I've  a  notion 
it  will  stay  on  as  long  as  Jim  and  I  are  uncorrupted. 
But  it  shan't  inconvenience  you,"  I  added  brightly, 
in  time  to  forestall  an  imminent  other  "  Nonsense  !  " 

Being  thus  neatly  thwarted,  she  looked  over  my 
shoulder  and  bent  to  her  oars,  for  we  had  again 
drifted  toward  the  troubled  waters  of  the  dam. 

"I  warned  you  —  if  you  listened  to  me,"  I  re 
minded  her. 

"Oh,  I've  not  been  listening  —  only  thinking." 

"  Of  course,  and  you  were  disbelieving.  It's  high 
time  you  put  us  ashore.  I  want  to  believe,  and  I 
want  not  to  be  drowned.  So  does  Jim,  —  both  of 
'em." 

She  pointed  the  boat  to  our  landing,  and  as  she 
leaned  her  narrow  shoulders  far  back  she  shot  me 
one  swift  look.  But  I  could  see  much  farther  into 
the  water  that  floated  us. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  CASE  OF  FATTY  BUDLOW 

LEST  Miss  Katharine  Lansdale  seem  unduly  for 
midable,  I  should,  perhaps,  say  that  I  appeared  to  be 
alone  in  rinding  her  so.  Little  Arcadians  of  my  own 
sex  younger  than  myself  —  and,  if  I  may  suggest  it, 
less  discerning  —  were  not  only  not  menaced,  but  she 
invited  them  with  a  cordiality  in  which  the  keenest 
eye  among  them  could  detect  no  flaw.  Miss  Lans- 
dale's  mother  had  also  pleased  the  masculine  element 
of  the  town  at  her  first  progress  through  its  pleasant 
streets.  But  Miss  Caroline,  despite  many  details  of 
dress  and  manner  that  failed  interestingly  to  cor 
roborate  the  fact,  was  an  old  woman,  and  one  whose 
way  of  life  made  her  difficult  of  comprehension  to 
the  Little  Country.  Socially  and  industrially,  one 
might  say,  she  did  not  fit  the  scheme  of  things  as  the 
town  had  been  taught  to  conceive  it.  Whereas,  her 
daughter  was  a  person  readily  to  be  understood  in 
all  parts  of  the  world  where  men  have  eyes  —  as  well 
by  the  homekeeping  as  by  the  travelled.  Eustace 
Eubanks,  more  or  less  a  man  of  the  world  by  virtue 
of  that  adventurous  trip  to  the  Holy  Land,  understood 
her  at  one  glance,  as  did  Arthur  Updyke,  who  had 
fared  abroad  to  the  college  of  pharmacy  and  knew 

312 


THE   CASE   OF  FATTY   BUDLOW  313 

things.  But  she  was  also  lucid  as  crystal  to  G.  Brown 
and  Creston  Fancett,  whose  knowledge  of  the  outside 
world  was  somewhat  affected  by  their  experience  of 
it,  which  was  nothing.  To  all  seven  of  the  ages  was 
this  woman  comprehensible.  Old  Bolivar  Kent, 
eighty-six  and  shuffling  his  short  steps  to  the  grave 
not  far  ahead,  understood  her  with  one  look ;  the  but 
adolescent  Guy  McCormick,  hovering  tragically  on  the 
verge  of  his  first  public  shave,  divined  her  quite  as 
capably ;  the  middle-yeared  Westley  Keyts  read  her 
so  unerringly  on  a  day  when  she  first  regaled  his 
vision  that  he  toiled  for  half  an  hour  as  one  en 
tranced,  disengaging  what  he  believed  to  be  porter 
house  steaks  long  after  the  porter-house  line  in  the 
beef  under  his  hand  had  been  passed. 

In  short,  Miss  Lansdale  was  understood  spontane 
ously —  to  borrow  a  phrase  from  the  Argus — "by 
each  and  all  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  present," 
for  she  was  dowered  with  that  quick-drawing  charm 
which  has  worked  a  familiar  spell  upon  the  sons  of 
men  in  all  times.  She  was  incontestably  feminine. 
She  gave  the  woman-call.  That  she  seemed  to  give 
it  against  her  wish, — without  intention, — that  I  was 
alone  in  detecting  this,  were  trifles  beside  the  point. 
Masculine  Little  Arcady  cared  not  that  she  had  been 
less  successful  than  the  late  Colonel  Potts,  for  ex 
ample,  in  preserving  the  truly  Greek  spirit  —  cared 
naught  for  this  so  long  as,  meaningly  or  otherwise, 
she  uttered  the  immemorial  woman-call  in  its  true 
note  wheresoever  she  fared. 


314  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

And,  curiously,  since  Miss  Lansdale  did  not  appear 
formidable  to  masculine  Little  Arcady  —  with  one 
negligible  exception  —  she  seemed  to  try  perversely 
not  to  be  so.  She  was  amazingly  gracious  to  it  — 
still  with  one  exception.  She  melted  to  frivolity  and 
the  dance  of  mirth.  She  affected  joy  in  its  music 
and  confessed  to  a  new  feeling  for  Jerusalem  after 
attending  a  lawn  party  at  which  Eustace  Eubanks 
did  his  best  to  please.  She  spoke  of  this  to  Eustace 
with  a  crafty  implication  that  it  had  remained  for  him 
to  interpret  the  antique  graces  of  that  storied  place 
to  a  world  all  too  heedless.  Eustace  himself  felt  not 
only  a  renewed  interest  in  the  land  exploited  by  his 
magic  lantern,  but  he  began  to  view  all  the  rest  of 
the  world  in  a  new  and  rosy  light,  of  which  Miss 
Lansdale  was  the  iridescent  globe  that  diffused  and 
subdued  it  to  the  mellow  hue  of  romance. 

It  is  impossible  to  believe  that  Eustace  was  ever 
at  any  pains  to  conceal  the  effects  of  this  astral 
phenomenon  from  his  family,  for  its  members  were 
very  quickly  excited.  If  in  that  vale  the  woman- 
call  could  be  heard  by  ears  attuned  to  its  haunting 
cadences,  so  also  did  the  frightened  mother-call  echo 
its  equally  primitive  note,  accompanied  by  the  less 
well-known  sister-call  of  warning  and  distress. 

The  truth  is  that  Eustace  was  becoming  harder  to 
manage  with  each  recurring  crisis.  For  testimony 
in  the  present  instance,  I  need  only  adduce  that  he 
wrote  poetry,  more  or  less,  after  meeting  Miss  Lans 
dale  but  a  scant  half-dozen  times.  This  came  to  me 


THE  CASE   OF  FATTY   BUDLOW  315 

in  confidence,  however,  and  the  obliquity  of  it  spread 
no  farther  beyond  the  family  lines. 

Fluttering  with  alarm,  the  mother  of  Eustace 
approached  me  as  one  presumably  familiar  with 
the  power  of  the  Lansdales  to  work  disaster  in  a 
peaceful  and  orderly  family.  She  sought  to  know 
if  I  could  not  prevent  her  boy  from  "  making  a  fool 
of  himself."  It  was  never  her  way  to  bother  with 
many  words  when  she  knew  the  right  few. 

With  an  air  that  signified  her  intention  of  letting 
me  know  the  worst  at  once,  Mrs.  Eubanks  drew  from 
her  bead  reticule  a  sheet  of  paper  scribbled  over  in 
the  handwriting  of  her  misguided  offspring.  It  was 
a  rondeau  ;  I  knew  that  by  the  shape,  and  the  mother 
apologized  for  the  indelicacy  of  it  before  permitting 
my  own  cheeks  to  blush  thereat.  The  dominant  line 
of  the  composition  I  saw  to  be  — 

"  When  love  lights  night  to  be  its  day." 

I  turned  from  the  stricken  mother  to  cough  depre- 
catingly  when  I  had  read.  She  likewise  had  the 
delicacy  to  turn  away  and  cough.  But  an  emergency 
of  this  momentous  import  must  be  discussed  in  plain 
terms,  however  disconcerting  the  details,  and  Mrs. 
Eubanks  had  nerved  herself  for  the  ordeal. 

"  I  can't  think,"  she  began,  "  where  the  boy  learned 
such  things !  " 

I  had  not  the  courage  to  tell  her  that  they  might 
be  entirely  self-taught  under  certain  circumstances. 

"  Such  shameless,  brazen  things !  "  she  persisted. 


316  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  We  have  always  been  so  careful  of  Euty  —  striving 
to  keep  him  —  well,  wholesome  and  pure,  you  under 
stand,  Major  Blake." 

"  There  are  always  dangers,"  I  said,  but  only  be 
cause  she  had  stopped  speaking,  and  not  in  any  hope 
of  instructing  her. 

"  If  only  we  can  keep  him  from  making  a  fool  of 
himself  —  " 

"  It  seems  rather  late,"  I  said,  this  time  with  pro 
found  conviction.  "  See  there !  " 

Upon  the  margin  of  that  captured  sheet  Eustace 
had  exposed,  as  it  were,  the  very  secret  mechanics  of 
his  passion.  There  were  written  tentative  rhymes, 
one  under  another,  as  "Kate — mate — Fate — late" 
—  and  eke  an  unblushing  "sate."  Also  had  he,  in 
the  frenzy  of  his  poetic  rapture,  divined  and  indicated 
the  technical  affinities  existing  among  words  like 
"  bliss,"  "  kiss,"  and  "  miss." 

Interference,  however  delicately  managed,  seemed 
hopeless  after  that,  and  I  said  as  much.  But  I 
added :  "  Of  course,  if  you  let  him  alone,  he  may 
come  back  to  his  better  self.  Perhaps  the  young 
lady  herself  may  prove  to  be  your  ally." 

"  Indeed  not !  She  has  set  out  deliberately  to 
ensnare  my  poor  Euty,"  said  the  mother,  with  an 
incisive  drawing  in  of  her  expressively  thin  lips. 
"  I  knew  it  the  very  first  evening  I  saw  them 
together." 

"  Mightn't  it  have  been  sheer  trifling  on  her  part  ? " 
I  suggested. 


THE   CASE   OF   FATTY   BUDLOW  317 

"  Can  you  imagine  that  young  woman  daring  to 
trifle  with  Eustace  Eubanks  ?  "  she  demanded. 

I  could,  as  a  matter  of  fact ;  but  as  her  query 
seemed  to  repel  such  a  disclosure,  I  lied. 

"  True,"  I  said,  "  she  would  never  dare.  I  didn't 
think  of  that." 

"With  all  her  frivolity  and  lightness  of  manner 
and  fondness  for  dress,  she  must  have  some  sense  of 
fitness  —  " 

"  She  must,  indeed  !  " 

"  She  could  not  go  that  far !  " 

"  Certainly  not !" 

"  Even  if  she  does  wear  too  many  ribbons  and 
laces  and  fancy  furbelows,  with  never  a  common- 
sense  shoe  to  her  foot!" 

"  Even  if  she  does"  I  assented  warmly. 

And  thus  we  were  compelled  to  leave  it.  In  view 
of  those  verses  I  could  suggest  no  plan  for  relief, 
and  my  one  poor  morsel  of  encouragement  had  been 
stonily  rejected. 

Eustace  went  the  mad  pace.  So  did  Arthur 
Updyke.  It  was  rather  to  be  expected  of  Arthur, 
however.  His  duties  at  the  City  Drug  Store  seemed 
to  encourage  a  debonair  lightness  of  conduct.  He 
treated  his  blond  ringlets  assiduously  from  the  stock 
of  pomades;  he  was  as  fastidious  about  his  finger 
nails  as  we  might  expect  one  to  be  in  an  environment 
of  manicure  implements  and  nail  beautifiers ;  it  was 
his  privilege  to  make  free  with  the  varied  assortment 
of  perfumes  —  a  privilege  he  forewent  in  no  degree ; 


318  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

his  taste  in  tooth-powders  was  widely  respected ;  and 
in  moments  of  leisure,  while  he  leaned  upon  a  show 
case  awaiting  custom,  he  was  wont  to  draw  a  slender 
comb  from  an  upper  waistcoat  pocket  and  pass  it 
delicately  through  his  small  but  perfect  mustache. 
Naturally  enough,  it  was  said  by  the  ladies  of  Little 
Arcady  that  Arthur's  attentions  were  never  serious, 
—  "  except  them  he  pays  to  himself !  "  Aunt  Delia 
McCormick  would  often  add,  for  that  excellent  woman 
was  not  above  playing  venomously  with  familiar  words. 

Also  did  G.  Brown  and  Creston  Fancett  go  the 
same  mad  pace.  These  four  were  filled  with  distrust 
of  one  another,  but  as  they  composed  our  male 
quartette,  they  would  gather  late  on  summer  nights 
and  conduct  themselves  in  a  manner  to  make  me 
wish  that  old  Azariah  Prouse's  peculiar  belief  as  to 
house  structure  might  have  included  a  sound-proof 
fence  about  his  premises.  For,  on  the  insufficient 
stretch  of  lawn  between  that  house  and  my  own,  the 
four  rivals  sang  serenades. 

"She  sleeps  —  my  lady  sleeps,"  they  sang,  with  a 
volume  that  seemed  bound  to  insure  their  inaccuracy 
as  to  the  lady,  and  which  assuredly  left  them  in  the 
wrong  as  to  her  mother's  attorney  —  if  their  song 
meant  in  the  least  to  report  conditions  at  large.  As 
this  was,  however,  the  one  occasion  when  they  felt 
that  none  of  the  four  had  any  advantage  over  his 
fellows,  they  made  the  most  of  it.  Then,  in  the  dead 
of  night,  I  would  be  very  sorry  that  I  had  not  coun 
selled  the  mother  of  Eustace  Eubanks  to  send  him 


THE   CASE   OF   FATTY   BUDLOW  319 

around  the  world  on  a  slow  sailing  ship ;  for  it  was 
his  voice,  even  in  songs  of  sleep,  that  rendered  this 
salutary  exercise  most  difficult. 

On  one  of  these  wakeful  summer  nights,  however, 
I  received  a  queer  little  shock.  Perhaps  I  half 
dreamed  it  in  some  fugitive  moment  of  half  sleep  ; 
but  it  was  as  if  I  were  again  an  awkward,  silent 
boy,  worshipping  a  girl  new  to  the  school,  a  girl 
who  wore  two  long  yellow  braids.  I  worshipped  her 
from  afar  so  that  she  saw  me  not,  being  occupied 
with  many  adorers  less  timid,  who  made  nothing 
of  snatching  a  hair  ribbon.  But  the  face  in  that 
instant  of  dream  was  the  face  of  Miss  Katharine 
Lansdale,  and  coupled  with  the  vision  was  a  prescience 
that  in  some  later  life  I  should  again  look  back  and 
see  myself  as  now,  a  grown  but  awkward  boy,  still 
holding  aloof — still  adoring  from  some  remote  back 
ground  while  other  and  bolder  gallants  captured 
trophies  and  lightly  carolled  their  serenades.  It 
seemed  like  borrowing  trouble  to  look  still  farther 
into  the  future,  but  the  vision  was  striking.  Surely, 
History  does  repeat  itself.  I  should  have  made  this 
discovery  for  myself  had  it  not  been  exploited  before 
my  day.  For  on  the  morrow  I  found  my  woman 
child  on  the  Lansdale  lawn  when  I  went  home  in 
the  afternoon.  She  had  now  reached  an  age  when 
she  was  beginning  to  do  "  pretties  "  with  her  lips  as 
she  talked  —  almost  at  the  age  when  I  had  first  been 
enraptured  by  her  mother,  with  the  identical  two 
braids,  also  the  tassels  dangling  from  her  boot  tops. 


320  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

This  latter  was  unexciting  as  a  coincidence,  however. 
I  myself  had  deliberately  produced  it. 

Miss  Lansdale  turned  from  talk  with  the  child  to 
greet  me.  Her  face  was  so  little  menacing  that  I 
called  her  "  Miss  Katharine  "  on  the  spot  But  my 
business  was  with  the  child. 

"  Lucy,"  I  said,  as  I  took  the  wicker  chair  by  the 
hammock  in  which  they  both  lounged,  "there  is  a 
boy  at  school  who  looks  at  you  a  great  deal  when 
you're  not  watching  him  —  you  catch  him  at  it —  but 
he  never  comes  near  you.  He  acts  as  if  he  were 
afraid  of  you.  He  is  an  awkward,  stupid  boy.  If  he 
gets  up  to  recite  about  geography,  or  about  '  a  gentle 
man  sent  his  servant  to  buy  ten  and  five-eighths  yards 
of  fine  broadcloth,'  or  anything  of  that  sort,  and  if  he 
happens  to  catch  your  eye  at  the  moment,  he  flounders 
like  a  caught  fish,  stares  hard  at  the  map  of  North 
America  on  the  wall,  and  sits  down  in  disgrace. 
And  when  the  other  boys  are  chasing  you  and  pull 
ing  off  your  hair  ribbons,  he  mopes  off  in  a  corner  of 
the  school  yard,  though  he  looks  as  if  he'd  like  to 
shoot  down  all  the  other  boys  in  cold  blood." 

"  He  has  nice  hair,"  said  my  woman  child. 

"  Oh,  he  has  !  Very  well ;  does  his  name  happen 
to  be  'Horsehead'  or  anything  like  that  —  the  name 
the  boys  call  him  by,  you  know  ?  " 

"  Fatty  —  Fatty  Budlow,  if  that's  the  one  you  mean. 
Do  you  know  him,  Uncle  Maje  ?  " 

"  Better  than  any  boy  in  the  world !  Haven't  I 
been  telling  you  about  him?" 


THE  CASE  OF  FATTY  BUDLOW      321 

"  Once  he  brought  a  bag  of  candy  to  school,  and  I 
thought  he  was  coming  up  to  hand  it  to  me,  but  he 
turned  red  in  the  face  and  stuffed  it  right  into  his 
pocket" 

"  He  meant  to  give  it  to  you,  really  —  he  bought  it 
for  you  —  but  he  couldn't  when  the  time  came." 

"  Oh,  did  he  tell  you  ? " 

"  It  wasn't  necessary  for  him  to  tell  me.  I  know 
that  boy,  I  tell  you,  through  and  through.  Lucy,  do 
you  think  you  could  encourage  him  a  little,  now  and 
then  —  be  sociable  with  him  — not  enough  to  hurt,  of 
course  ?  You  don't  know  how  he'd  appreciate  the 
least  kindness.  He  might  remember  it  all  his  life." 

"I  might  pat  his  hair  —  he  has  such  nice  hair  —  if 
he  wouldn't  know  it  —  but  of  course  he  would  know 
it,  and  when  he  looks  at  you,  he  is  so  queer  — 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  I  suppose  it  is  hopeless.  Couldn't 
you  even  ask  him  to  write  in  your  autograph  album  ? " 

•"  Y-e-s  —  I  could,  only  he'd  be  sure  to  write  some 
thing  funny  like  '  In  Memory's  wood-box  let  me  be  a 
stick.'  He  always  does  write  something  witty,  and  I 
don't  much  care  for  ridiculous  things  in  my  album ; 
I'm  being  careful  with  it." 

"  Well,  if  he's  as  witty  as  that  in  your  album,  it  will 
be  to  mask  a  bleeding  heart.  I  happen  to  know  that 
in  a  former  existence  he  was  never  even  asked  to 
write,  though  he  always  hoped  he  might  be." 

"  I'm  sorry  if  you  like  him,  Uncle  Maje,  but  I'm 
positive  that  Fatty  Budlow  is  not  a  boy  I  could  ever 
feel  deeply  for.  I  don't  believe  our  acquaintance  will 


522  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

even  ripen  into  friendship,"  and  she  looked  with  pro 
found  eyes  into  the  wondrous,  opening  future. 

"  Of  course  it  won't,"  I  said.  "  I  might  have  known 
that.  He  will  continue  through  the  ages  to  be  an 
impossible  boy.  Miss  Lansdale  feels  the  same  way 
about  him.  Poor  Fatty  or  Horsehead  or  whatever 
they  call  him  stands  off  and  glares  at  her,  and  can't 
say  his  lesson  when  he  catches  her  eye  —  only  he 
seldom  does  catch  it,  because  she's  so  busy  with  other 
boys  of  more  spirit  who  crowd  about  her  and  snatch 
hair  ribbons  and  sing  '  My  lady  sleeps '  until  no  one 
else  can." 

"  Do  you  know  Fatty  Budlow  ?  "  asked  my  sur 
prised  woman  child  of  Miss  Lansdale.  But  that 
young  woman  only  reached  out  one  foot  to  point  its 
toe  idly  at  a  creeping  green  worm  and  turn  its  va 
grant  course.  The  toe  was  by  no  means  common- 
sense,  and  the  heel  was  simply  idiotic. 

"  Of  course  she  knows  him,"  I  said ;  "  she  knotvs 
he  would  give  his  right  hand  for  her,  which  is  a  good 
deal  under  the  circumstances,  and  she  very  properly 
despises  him  for  it.  She'd  take  her  picture  away 
from  him  if  she  could." 

"  She  wouldn't,"  said  Miss  Lansdale,  with  a  gesture 
of  her  foot  that  disconcerted  me. 

"  Miss  Kate,"  I  said,  "  I  have  lived  my  life  in 
terror  of  seeing  one  of  those  squashy  green  worms 
meet  a  fearful  disaster  in  my  presence.  Would  you 
mind  —  " 

With  a  fillip  of  the  bronzed  toe  she  sent  the  amazed 


THE   CASE   OF   FATTY   BUDLOW  323 

worm  into  a  country  that  must  have  been  utterly 
strange  to  it. 

"  She'd  take  it  back  quickly  enough  if  she  knew 
what  he  makes  of  it,"  I  said,  returning  to  the  picture  ; 
"  if  she  knew  that  he  had  kept  it  ever  since  he 
learned  that  agriculture,  mining,  and  ship-building 
are  principal  industries  —  only  at  first  it  had  two  long 
yellow  braids,  and  tassels  dangling  from  its  boot 
tops." 

"  My  mother  had  beautiful  long  golden  hair,"  said 
the  woman  child,  adding  simply,  "  papa  says  mine  is 
just  like  it." 

Miss  Lansdale  regarded  me  narrowly. 

"  You  get  me  all  mixed  up,"  she  said. 

"I  like  to.  You're  heady  then — like  your 
mother's  punch  when  it's  '  all  mixed  up.'  ' 

"  I  must  put  in  more  ice,"  remarked  Miss  Lansdale, 
calmly. 

"  Fatty  Budlow  is  so  serious,"  said  the  woman 
child,  suspecting  that  the  talk  had  drifted  away  from 
her. 

"  It's  his  curse,"  I  admitted.  "  If  he  weren't  an 
A  No.  i  dreamer,  he'd  be  too  serious  to  live,  but 
he  goes  dreaming  and  maundering  along  —  dreaming 
that  things  are  about  as  he  would  like  to  have  them. 
He  sees  your  face  and  Miss  Lansdale's,  and  then  they 
get  mixed  up  in  a  queer  way,  and  Miss  Kate's  face 
comes  out  of  the  picture  with  such  a  look  in  the  eyes 
that  a  man  of  ordinary  spirit  would  call  her  '  Little 
Miss  '  right  off  without  ever  stopping  to  think  ;  but 


324  THE  BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

of  course  this  Fatty  or  Horsehead  or  whatever  it  is 
can't  say  it  right  out,  so  he  says  it  to  himself  about 
twenty-three  or  twenty-four  thousand  times  a  day, 
as  nearly  as  he  can  reckon  —  he  always  was  weak  in 
arithmetic." 

"  You  might  let  him  write  in  your  autograph 
album,"  said  the  woman  child,  brightly,  to  Miss  Lans- 
dale. 

"  I  know  what  he'd  write  if  he  got  the  chance," 
I  added  incitingly.  But  it  did  not  avail.  Miss 
Lansdale  remained  incurious  and  merely  said,  "  Long 
golden  braids,"  as  one  trying  to  picture  them. 

"  And  later  a  little  row  of  curls  over  each  ear,  and 
a  tiny  chain  with  a  locket  around  the  neck.  I  had  a 
picture  once  — 

"  You  have  had  many  pictures." 

"  Yes  — two  are  many  if  you've  had  nothing  else." 

But  she  was  now  regarding  the  woman  child  with 
a  curious,  close  look,  almost  troubled  in  its  intensity. 

"  Do  you  look  like  your  mother  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Papa  says  I  do,  and  Uncle  Maje  thinks  so  too. 
She  was  very  pretty."  This  came  with  an  uncon 
scious  placidity. 

"  She  looks  almost  as  her  mother's  picture  did,"  I 
said. 

When  the  child  had  gone,  Miss  Lansdale  searched 
my  face  long  before  speaking.  She  seemed  to  hesi 
tate  for  words,  and  at  length  to  speak  of  other 
matters  than  those  which  might  have  perplexed 
her. 


THE   CASE   OF   FATTY   BUDLOW  325 

"  Why  did  they  call  you  '  Horsehead '  ?  "  she  asked 
almost  kindly. 

"  I  never  asked.  It  seemed  to  be  a  common  un 
derstanding.  Doubtless  there  was  good  reason  for 
it,  as  good  as  there  is  for  calling  Budlow  '  Fatty.'  " 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  she  asked  again. 

"  I  went  to  the  war  with  what    I    could  take  — 
nothing  but  a  picture." 

"And  you  lost  that?" 

"  Yes  —  under  peculiar  circumstances.  It  seemed 
a  kind  thing  to  do  at  the  time." 

"  And  you  came  back  with  — 

"  With  yours,  Little  Miss  !  " 

Some  excitement  throbbed  between  us  so  that  I 
had  involuntarily  emphasized  my  words.  Briefly  her 
eyes  clung  to  mine,  and  very  slowly  we  relaxed  from 
that  look. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  say,"  she  began  presently, 
"  that  I  shall  have  to  believe  your  absurd  tale  of  my 
picture  being  with  you  before  you  saw  me.  Some 
thing  makes  me  credit  it  —  a  strange  little  notion 
that  I  have  carried  that  child's  picture  in  my  own 
mind." 

"  We  are  even,  then,"  I  answered,  "  only  you  are 
thinking  more  things  than  you  say.  That  isn't  fair." 

But  she  only  nodded  her  head  inscrutably. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

A    LITTLE    MYSTERY    IS    SOLVED 

THE  significance  of  Miss  Lansdale's  manner,  rather 
than  her  words,  ran  through  my  darkened  thoughts 
like  a  thread  as  I  played  the  game  that  night.  After 
a  third  defeat  this  thread  seemed  to  guide  me  to  day 
light  from  a  tortuously  winding  cavern.  At  first  the 
thing  was  of  an  amazing  simplicity. 

In  a  far  room  was  a  chest  filled  with  forgotten  odds 
and  ends  that  had  come  back  with  me  years  before. 
I  ran  to  it,  and  from  under  bundles  of  letters,  old 
family  trinkets,  a  canteen,  a  pair  of  rusty  pistols, 
and  other  such  matters,  I  brought  forth  an  ambro- 
type  —  the  kind  that  was  mounted  in  a  black  case  of 
pressed  rubber  and  closed  with  a  spring. 

But  even  as  I  held  the  thing,  flushed  with  my  dis 
covery,  another  recollection  cooled  me,  and  the  struc 
ture  of  my  discovery  tumbled  as  quickly  as  it  had 
built  itself.  Little  Miss  had  found  her  own  picture 
when  she  found  him.  Her  mother  had  told  me  this 
definitely.  It  had  been  clutched  in  his  hands,  and 
she,  after  a  look,  had  tenderly  replaced  it  to  stay  with 
his  dust  forever.  This  I  had  forgotten  at  first,  in  my 
eagerness  for  light. 

I  pressed  the  spring  that  brought  the  face  to  my 
326 


A   LITTLE   MYSTERY   IS    SOLVED  327 

eyes,  knowing  it  would  not  be  her  face.  Close  to  the 
light  I  studied  it ;  the  face  of  a  girl,  eighteen  or  so, 
with  dreaming  eyes  that  looked  beyond  me.  It  could 
not  be  Miss  Lansdale,  and  yet  it  was  strangely  like 
her  —  like  the  Little  Miss  she  must  once  have  been. 

But  one  mystery  at  least  was  now  plain  —  the  mys 
tery  of  my  own  mind  picture.  I  had  not  looked  at 
this  thing  for  ten  years,  but  its  lines  had  stayed  with 
me,  and  this  was  the  face  of  my  dreaming,  carried  so 
long  after  its  source  had  been  forgotten.  The  face 
of  this  picture  had  naturally  enough  changed  to  seem 
like  the  face  of  Miss  Lansdale  after  I  had  seen 
her. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  face  of  a  Peavey ;  there  was  at 
least  a  family  resemblance ;  that  would  explain  the 
likeness  to  Miss  Kate.  This  was  not  much,  but  it 
was  enough  to  sleep  on. 

As  I  left  the  house  the  following  morning,  Miss 
Lansdale,  her  skirts  pinned  up,  was  among  her  roses 
with  a  watering  pot  and  a  busy  pair  of  scissors. 

As  I  approached  her  I  had  something  to  say,  but 
it  was,  for  an  interval,  driven  from  my  lips. 

"Promise  me,"  I  said  instead,  "never  to  wear  a 
common-sense  shoe." 

She  stared  at  me  with  brows  a  trifle  raised. 

"  Of  course  it  will  displease  Mrs.  Eubanks,  but 
there  is  still  a  better  reason  for  it." 

The  brows  went  farther  up  at  this  until  they  were 
hardly  to  be  detected  under  the  broad  rim  of  her 
garden  hat. 


328  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

Her  answer  was  icy,  even  for  an  "  Indeed  ? "  — 
quite  in  her  best  Lansdale  manner. 

"  Yes,  '  indeed  ! ' '  I  retorted  somewhat  rudely, 
"but  never  mind  —  it's  not  of  the  least  consequence. 
What  I  meant  to  say  was  this  —  about  those  pictures 
of  people,  you  remember." 

"  I  remember  perfectly,  and  I've  concluded  that 
it's  all  nonsense  —  all  of  it,  you  understand." 

"That's  queer  —  so  have  I."  Had  I  been  a  third 
person  and  an  observer,  I  would  doubtless  have  sworn 
that  Miss  Lansdale  was  more  surprised  than  pleased 
by  this  remark  of  mine. 

"  I  haven't  had  your  picture  at  all,"  I  went  on  ;  "  it 
was  a  picture  of  some  one  else,  and  I  hadn't  thought 
to  look  at  it  for  a  long  time  —  had  forgotten  it  utterly, 
in  fact.  That's  how  I  came  to  think  I  knew  your 
face  before  I  knew  you." 

"I  told  you  it  was  nonsense  !  "  and  she  snipped  off 
a  rose  with  a  kind  of  miniature  brusqueness. 

"  But  you  shall  see  that  I  had  some  reason.  If 
you  find  time  to-day,  step  into  my  library  and  look  at 
the  picture.  It's  on  the  mantel,  and  the  door  is  open. 
It  may  be  some  one  you  know,  though  I  doubt  even 
that." 

With  this  I  brazenly  snatched  a  pink  rose  from 
those  within  her  arm. 

"You  see  Fatty  Budlow  is  coming  on,"  I  remarked 
of  this  bit  of  boldness. 

"Let  him  come  —  he  shan't  find  me  in  the  way." 
This  with  an  effort  to  seem  significant. 


A  LITTLE   MYSTERY   IS   SOLVED  329 

"Oh,  not  at  all!"  I  assured  her  politely,  and  with 
equal  subtlety,  I  believe. 

Had  I  known  that  this  was  the  last  time  I  should 
ever  look  upon  Miss  Katharine  Lansdale,  I  might 
have  looked  longer.  She  was  well  worth  seeing  for 
sundry  other  reasons  than  her  need  for  common-sense 
shoes.  But  those  last  times  pass  so  often  without  our 
suspecting  them  !  And  it  was,  indeed,  my  good  for 
tune  never  to  see  her  again.  For  never  again  was 
she  to  rise,  even  at  her  highest,  above  Miss  Kate. 

She  was  even  so  low  as  Little  Miss  when  I  found 
her  on  my  porch  that  afternoon  —  a  troubled  Little 
Miss,  so  drooping,  so  queerly  drawn  about  the  eyes, 
so  weak  of  mouth,  so  altogether  stricken  that  I  was 
shot  through  at  sight  of  her. 

"  I  waited  here  —  to  speak  alone  —  you  are  late 
to-day." 

I  was  early,  but  if  she  had  waited,  she  would  of 
course  not  know  this. 

"  What  has  happened,  Miss  Kate  ? " 

"  Come  here." 

Through  my  opened  door  I  followed  her  quick 
step. 

"You  were  jesting  about  that  this  morning,"  —  she 
pointed  to  the  picture,  propped  open  against  a  book 
on  the  mantel ;  and  then,  with  an  effort  to  steady  her 
voice,  —  "you  were  jesting,  and  of  course  you  didn't 
know  —  but  you  shouldn't  have  jested." 

"  Can  it  be  you,  Miss  Kate  —  can  it  really  be 
you  ? " 


330  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  It  is,  it  is  —  couldn't  you  see  ?     Tell  me  quickly 

—  don't,  don't  jest  again  !  " 

"  Be  sure  I  shall  not.     Sit  down." 

But  she  stood  still,  with  an  arm  extended  to  the 
picture,  and  again  implored  me  :  "  See  —  I'm  waiting. 
Where  —  how  —  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"Sit  down,"  I  said ;  and  this  time  she  obeyed  with 
a  little  cry  of  impatience. 

"  I'll  try  to  bring  it  back,"  I  said.  "  It  was  that 
day  Sheridan  hurried  back  to  find  his  army  broken  — 
all  but  beaten.  Just  at  dark  there  was  a  last  charge 

—  a  charge  that  was  met.     I  went  down  in  it,  hear 
ing  yells  and  a  spitting  fire,  but  feeling  only  numb 
ness.   v  When  I  woke  up  the  firing  was  far  off.     Near 
me  I  could  hear  a  voice,  the  voice  of  a  young  man, 
I  thought,  wounded  like  myself.     I  first  took  him  for 
one  of  our  men.     But  his  talk  undeceived  me.     It 
was  the  talk  of  your  men,  and  sorrowful  talk.     He 
was  badly  hurt ;  he  knew  that.     But  he  was  sure  of 
life.     He  couldn't  die  there  like  a  brute.     He  had  to 
go  back  and  he  would  go  back  alive  and  well ;  for 
God  was  a  gentleman,    whatever  else  He  was,  and 
above  practical  jokes  of  that  sort.     Then  he  seemed 
to  know  he  was  losing  strength,  and  he  cried  out  for 
a  picture,  as  if  he  must  at  least  have  that  before  he 
went.     Weak  as  he  was,  he  tried  to  turn  on  his  side 
to  search  for  it.     '  It   was  here  a  moment   ago,'  he 
would  say ;  '  I  had  it  once,'  and  he  tried  to  turn  again, 
still  crying  out  for  it,  —  he  must  not  die  without  it. 
It  hurt  me  to  hear  his  voice  break,  and  I  made  out 


A   LITTLE   MYSTERY   IS    SOLVED  331 

to  roll  near  him  to  help  him  search.  '  We'll  find  it,' 
I  told  him,  and  he  thanked  me  for  my  help. 
'  Look  for  a  square  hard  case,'  he  said  eagerly.  '  It 
must  be  here ;  I  had  it  after  I  fell  down.'  Together 
we  searched  the  rough  ground  over  in  the  dark  as 
well  as  we  could.  I  was  glad  enough  to  help  him. 
I  had  a  picture  like  that  of  my  own  that  I  shouldn't 
have  liked  to  lose.  But  we  were  clumsy  searchers, 
and  he  seemed  to  lose  hope  as  he  lost  strength. 
Again  he  cried  out  for  that  picture,  but  now  it  was  a 
despairing  cry,  and  it  hurt  me.  Under  the  darkness 
I  reached  my  one  good  hand  up  and  took  my  own 
picture  from  its  place.  So  many  of  us  carried  pic 
tures  over  our  hearts  in  those  days.  I  pretended 
then  to  search  once  more,  telling  him  to  have  courage, 
and  then  I  said,  '  Is  this  it  ? '  He  fumbled  for  it,  and 
his  hand  caught  it  quickly  up  under  his  chin.  He 
was  so  glad.  He  thanked  me  for  finding  it,  and 
then  he  lay  still,  panting.  After  a  while  —  we  both 
wanted  water  —  I  crawled  away  to  where  I  heard  a 
running  stream.  It  must  have  been  farther  than  I 
thought,  and  I  couldn't  be  quick  because  so  much  of 
me  was  numb  and  had  to  be  dragged.  But  I  reached 
the  water  and  filled  a  canteen  I  had  found  on  the 
way.  As  soon  as  I  could  manage  it  I  went  back  to 
him  with  the  water,  but  I  must  have  been  gone  a  long 
time.  He  wasn't  there.  But  as  I  crawled  near  where 
he  had  lain,  I  put  my  hand  on  a  little  square  case 
such  as  I  had  given  him.  I  thought  it  must  be  mine. 
I  lost  consciousness  again.  When  I  awoke  two  hos- 


332  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

pital  stewards  carried  me  on  a  stretcher,  and  a  field 
surgeon  walked  beside  us.  I  still  had  the  picture, 
and  not  for  many  days  did  I  know  that  it  wasn't  my 
own.  After  that  I  forgot  it — but  I've  already  told 
you  of  that." 

Her  eyes  had  not  quitted  my  face  while  I  spoke, 
though  they  were  glistening ;  her  mouth  had  weak 
ened  more  than  once,  and  a  piteous  little  "  Oh !  " 
would  come  from  her  lips.  When  I  had  finished 
she  looked  away  from  me,  dropping  her  eyes  to 
the  floor,  leaning  forward  intently,  her  hands  shut 
between  her  knees.  For  a  long  time  she  remained 
so,  forgetting  me.  But  at  last  I  could  hear  her 
breathe  and  could  see  the  increasing  rise  and  fall 
of  it,  so  that  I  feared  a  crisis.  But  none  came. 
Again  she  mastered  herself  and  even  managed  a 
smile  for  me,  though  it  was  a  poor  thing. 

"  I've  told  you  all,  Miss  Kate." 

"Yes  —  I'm  unfair,  but  you  have  a  right  to  know. 
I  found  that  picture  —  your  picture,  when  they 
brought  him  in.  His  hands  were  clenched  about 
it.  They  said  he  had  pleaded  to  hold  it  and  made 
them  promise  not  to  take  it  from  him  —  ever.  I  was 
left  alone,  and  I  dared  to  take  it,  just  for  a  moment. 
Something  in  the  design  of  the  cover  puzzled  me. 
I  had  meant  to  put  it  right  back,  and  after  I  had 
looked  at  it  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do  —  to  put 
it  back." 

"  They  said  you  found  your  own  picture,  or  I  might 
have  suspected." 


A   LITTLE   MYSTERY   IS   SOLVED  333 

"  They  had  reason  to  say  it  —  I  never  told." 

"  Of  course  you  never  told,  Miss  Kate  !  "  I  seemed 
to  learn  a  great  deal  of  her  from  that.  She  had  car 
ried  her  wound  secretly  through  all  those  years. 

"  Poor  Little  Miss  !  "  I  said  in  spite  of  myself,  and 
at  this  quite  unexpectedly  there  befell  what  I  had 
hoped  we  might  both  be  spared. 

I  might  not  soothe  her  as  I  would  have  wished,  so  I 
busied  myself  in  the  next  room  until  she  called  to  me. 
She  was  putting  what  touches  she  could  to  her  eyes 
with  a  small  and  sadly  bedraggled  handkerchief. 

"There  is  a  better  reason  for  telling  no  one  now," 
she  said,  "  so  we  must  destroy  this.  Mother  might 
see  it." 

My  grate  contained  its  summer  accumulation  of 
waste  paper.  She  laid  the  picture  on  this  and  I 
lighted  the  pyre. 

"  Your  mother  will  see  your  eyes,"  I  said. 

"  She  has  seen  them  so  before."  And  she  gave 
me  her  hand,  which  I  kissed. 

"  Poor  Little  Miss  !  "  I  said,  still  holding  it. 

"  Not  poor  now  —  you  have  given  me  back  so  much. 
I  can  believe  again  —  I  can  believe  almost  as  much 
as  Jim." 

But  I  released  her  hand.  Though  her  eyes  had 
not  quitted  mine,  their  look  was  one  of  utter  friendli 
ness. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HOW   A    TRUCE   WAS   TROUBLESOME 

IN  the  days  and  nights  that  followed  this  interview 
I  associated  rather  more  than  usual  with  Jim.  It 
seemed  well  to  do  so.  I  needed  to  learn  once  more 
some  of  the  magnificent  belief  that  I  had  taught  him 
in  days  when  my  own  was  stronger.  Close  compan 
ionship  with  a  dog  of  the  truly  Greek  spirit,  under  cir 
cumstances  in  which  I  now  found  myself,  was  bound 
to  be  of  a  tonic  value.  I  had  seen,  almost  at  the 
moment  of  Miss  Kate's  disclosure,  that  a  change  was 
to  come  in  our  relations.  Perhaps  I  was  wild  enough 
at  the  moment  to  hope  that  it  might  be  a  change  for 
the  better  ;  but  this  was  only  in  the  first  flush  of  it  — 
of  a  moment  ill  adapted  for  close  reasoning.  It  took 
no  great  while  to  convince  me  that  the  discovery  in 
which  we  had  cooperated  was  of  a  character  neces 
sarily  to  put  me  from  her  even  farther  than  she  had 
at  first  chosen  to  put  me  —  and  that  was  far  enough, 
Heaven  knows. 

In  effect  I  had  given  back  her  love  to  her,  a  love 
she  had  for  ten  years  unjustly  doubted.  That  was 
the  cold  truth  of  it  for  one  who  knew  women.  One 
who  could  doubt  the  tenth  year  as  poignantly  as  she 
had  doubted  in  the  first  —  would  she  not  in  bitterness 

334 


HOW   A   TRUCE   WAS   TROUBLESOME         335 

regret  her  doubt  ten  other  years,  and  sweetly  mourn 
her  lost  love  still  another  ten  ?  She  who  had  let  me 
be  little  enough  to  her  while  she  felt  her  wound  — 
how  much  less  could  I  be  when  the  hurt  was  healed  ? 
Before  she  might  have  been  in  want.  At  least  that 
was  conceivable.  Now  her  want  was  met.  Not  only 
was  there  this  to  fill  her  heart,  but  remorse,  the  ten- 
derest  a  woman  may  know,  it  seems  to  me  —  remorse 
for  undeserved  suspicion. 

In  a  setting  less  prosaic  than  Little  Arcady,  where 
events  might  be  of  a  story-fitness,  that  lover  would 
have  been  alive  by  a  happy  chance,  estranged  by 
the  misunderstanding  but  splendidly  faithful,  and  I 
should  have  been  helper  and  interested  witness  to  an 
ideal  reconciliation  ;  thereafter  to  play  out  my  game 
with  a  full  heart,  though  with  an  exterior  placidly 
unconcerned.  But  with  us  events  halt  always  a  little 
short  of  true  romance.  They  are  unexcitingly  usual. 

I  would  have  to  play  out  my  game  full  heartedly, 
nursing  my  powers  of  belief  back  to  their  one-time 
vigor  ;  nothing  would  occur  to  ease  my  lot  —  not  even 
an  occasion  to  pretend  that  I  gave  my  blessing  to  a 
reunited  and  happy  pair.  Miss  Kate  could  go  on 
believing.  Unwittingly  I  had  given  her  the  stuff  for 
belief.  I,  too,  must  go  on  believing,  and  providing 
my  own  material,  as  had  ever  been  my  lot ;  all  of 
which  was  why  my  dog  seemed  my  most  profitable 
companion  at  this  time.  His  every  bark  at  a  threat 
ening  baby-carriage  a  block  away,  each  fresh  time  he 
believed  sincerely  that  a  rubber  shoe  was  engaging 


336  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE  ARCADY 

in  deadly  struggle  with  him,  taxing  all  his  forces  to 
subdue  it,  each  time  he  testified  with  sensitive,  twitch 
ing  nostrils  that  the  earth  is  good  with  innumerable 
scents,  each  streaking  of  his  glad-tongued  white  length 
over  yellowing  fields  designed  solely  for  his  recreation 
held  for  me  a  certain  soothing  value.  And  when  in 
quiet  moments  he  assured  me  with  melting  gaze  that 
I  was  a  being  to  challenge  the  very  heart  of  love  —  in 
some  measure,  at  least,  did  my  soul  gain  strength 
from  his  own. 

To  know  as  much  as  I  have  indicated  had  been 
unavoidable  for  one  of  any  intuitive  powers.  The 
change  at  once  to  be  detected  in  Miss  Kate's  manner 
toward  me  confirmed  my  divinations  without  enlarg 
ing  them.  Miss  Katharine  Lansdale  was  gone  for 
ever  ;  in  her  place  was  a  Miss  Kate,  —  even  a  Little 
Miss  to  the  eye,  —  who  regarded  me  at  first  with  an 
undisguised  alarm,  then  with  a  curious  interfusion  of 
alarm  and  shyness,  a  little  disguised  with  not  a  little 
effort.  This  was  plain  reading.  She  would  at  first 
have  distrusted  me,  apprehending  I  know  not  what 
rashness  of  ill-timed  and  forever  impossible  declara 
tions.  As  she  perceived  this  alarm  to  be  baseless, 
for  I  not  only  refrained  from  intruding  but  I  ostenta 
tiously  let  Miss  Kate  alone,  shyness  would  creep  into 
her  apprehension  to  make  amends  for  its  first  crude 
manifestations. 

As  the  days  went  by  and  I  displayed  still  the  fine 
sense  to  keep  myself  aloof,  to  seek  Miss  Kate  only 
in  those  ways  that  I  sought  her  refreshing  mother, 


HOW   A   TRUCE   WAS   TROUBLESOME        337 

she  let  me  discern  more  clearly  her  faith  in  my  firm 
ness  and  good  sense.  To  be  plain,  in  reward  for  let 
ting  her  alone,  she  did  not  let  me  alone.  And  this 
reward  I  accepted  becomingly,  with  a  resolve  —  the 
metal  of  which  I  hoped  she  would  divine  —  never  to 
show  myself  undeserving  of  its  benisons. 

When  I  say  that  the  young  woman  did  not  let  me 
alone,  I  mean  that  she  seemed  almost  to  put  herself 
in  my  way ;  not  obviously,  true  enough,  but  in  a  de 
gree  palpable  enough  to  one  who  had  observed  her 
first  almost  shrinking,  alarm.  And  this  behavior  of 
hers  went  forward,  at  last,  without  the  slightest  leaven 
of  apprehension  on  her  part,  but  her  shyness  re 
mained.  It  was  so  marked  and  so  novel  in  her  — 
with  reference  to  myself  —  that  I  could  not  fail  to  be 
sensible  to  it.  It  was  as  if  she  divined  that  mad 
notions  might  still  lurk  within  my  untaught  mind  to 
be  reasons  why  she  should  fear  me  ;  but  that  her 
confidence  in  my  self-mastery  could  not,  at  the  same 
time,  be  too  openly  shown. 

Tacitly,  it  was  as  if  we  had  treated  together;  a 
treaty  that  bound  me  to  observe  a  perpetual  truce. 
My  arms  were  forever  laid  down,  and  she,  who  had 
once  so  feared  me,  was  now  free  to  wander  when  she 
would  within  the  lines  of  an  honorable  enemy.  That 
she  should  walk  there  with  increasing  frequency  as 
the  days  passed  was  a  tribute  to  my  powers  of  restraint 
which  I  was  too  wise  to  undervalue.  I  ignored 
the  shyness  of  which  she  seemed  unable  to  divest 
herself  in  my  presence.  It  would  have  been  easy  not 


338  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

to  ignore  it,  for  there  were  times  when,  so  little  care 
ful  was  she  to  guard  herself,  that  this  shyness 
suggested,  invited,  appealed,  signalled ;  times  when, 
without  my  deeper  knowledge  of  her  sex,  I  could  have 
sworn  that  the  true  woman-call  rang  in  my  ears.  But 
a  treaty  is  a  treaty,  on  paper  or  on  honor,  and  ours 
would  never  be  broken  by  black  treachery  of  mine, 
let  her  eyes  fall  under  my  own  with  never  so  flutter 
ing  an  allurement. 

They  were  not  bad  days,  as  days  go  in  this  earth-life 
of  too  much  exact  knowledge.  Miss  Kate  rowed  me 
over  still  waters  and  walked  beside  me  in  green  pastures. 
At  times  like  these  she  might  even  seem  to  forget. 
She  would  even  become,  I  must  affirm,  more  nearly 
Peavey  than  was  strictly  her  right ;  for  it  was  plain 
that  our  treaty  must  involve  certain  stipulations  of 
restraint  on  her  part  as  well  as  on  my  own.  The 
burden  was  not  all  to  be  mine.  But  these  mo 
ments  I  learned  to  withstand,  remembering  that  she 
was  a  woman.  That  was  a  circumstance  not  hard  to 
remember  when  she  was  by.  It  is  probable  that  my 
heart  could  not  have  forgotten  it,  even  had  my  trained 
head  learned  blandly  to  ignore  it. 

Further  to  enliven  those  days,  I  permitted  Jim  to 
give  her  lessons  in  believing  everything.  When  I 
told  her  of  this,  she  said,  "  I  need  them,  I'm  so  out  of 
practice."  That  was  the  nearest  we  had  come  to 
touching  upon  the  interview  of  a  certain  afternoon. 
I  should  not  have  considered  this  a  forbidden  topic, 
but  her  shyness  became  pitiful  at  any  seeming 


HOW   A  TRUCE   WAS   TROUBLESOME        339 

approach  to  it.  "Jim  will  put  you  right  again,"  I 
assured  her.  And  I  believe  he  did,  though  it  was  not 
easy  to  persuade  him  that  she  could  be  morally  recog 
nized  when  I  was  by.  The  occasion  on  which  he  first 
remained  crouching  at  her  feet  while  I  walked  away 
was  regarded  by  Miss  Kate  as  a  personal  triumph. 
She  was  so  childishly  open  of  her  pleasure  at  this  that 
I  did  not  tell  her  it  was  a  mere  trick  of  mine ;  that  I 
had  told  him  to  charge  when  he  sprang  up.  She  knew 
his  eyes  so  little  as  to  think  he  displayed  regard  for 
rather  than  respect  for  my  command.  She  could  not 
see  that  he  begged  me  piteously  to  know  why  he  must 
crouch  there  at  a  couple  of  strange  inconsequential 
feet  and  see  the  good  world  go  suddenly  wrong. 

Still  further,  to  make  those  days  not  bad  days,  Miss 
Kate  would  cross  our  little  common  ground  of  an 
early  evening  to  where  I  played  the  game  on  my 
porch.  Often  I  did  this  until  dusk  obscured  the  faces 
of  the  cards.  I  faintly  suspected  in  the  course  of 
these  bird-like  visits  a  caprice  in  Miss  Kate  to  know 
what  it  might  be  that  I  preferred  to  the  society  of  her 
mother  on  her  own  porch.  She  appeared  to  be  more 
curious  than  interested.  She  promptly  made  those 
observations  which  the  unillumined  have  ever  con 
sidered  it  witty  to  make  concerning  those  who  play 
at  solitaire.  But,  finding  that  I  had  long  ceased  to 
be  moved  by  these,  she  was  friendly  enough  to  judge 
the  game  upon  its  merits.  That  she  judged  it  to  be 
stupid  was  neither  strange  nor  any  reflection  upon  the 
fairness  of  her  mind.  The  game  —  in  those  pro- 


340  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

founder,  rarer  aspects  which  alone  dignify  it  —  is  not 
for  women.  I  believe  that  the  game  of  cards  to  teach 
them  philosophy  under  defeat,  respect  for  the  in 
evitable  and  a  cheerful  manipulation  of  such  trifling 
good  fortune  as  may  befall  —  instead  of  that  wild, 
womanish  demand  for  all  or  nothing  —  has  yet  to  be 
invented.  I  predict  of  this  game,  moreover,  if  ever 
it  be  found,  that  it  will  be  a  game  at  which  two,  at 
least,  must  play.  Rarely  have  I  known  a  woman, 
however  rigid  her  integrity  otherwise,  who  would 
not  brazenly  amend  or  even  repeal  utterly  those  de 
crees  of  Fate  which  are  symbolized  by  the  game. 
She  desires  intensely  to  win,  and  she  will  not  be  above 
shifting  a  card  or  two  in  contravention  of  the  known 
rules.  Far  am  I  from  intimating  that  this  puts  upon 
her  the  stigma  of  moral  delinquency.  It  is  mere 
testimony,  rather,  to  her  astounding  capacity  for  self- 
deception.  And  this  I  cannot  believe  to  be  other  than 
gracious  of  influence  upon  the  intricate  muddle  of 
human  association. 

Miss  Kate  was  finely  the  woman  at  those  times  when 
she  deigned  for  a  ten  minutes  to  overlook  my  playing 
of  the  game.  Before  I  had  half  finished,  on  the  first 
occasion,  she  had  mastered  its  simple  mechanism  ;  and 
before  I  had  quite  finished  she  sought  to  practise  upon 
it  those  methods  of  the  world  woman  in  games  of  soli 
taire.  She  would  calmly  have  placed  a  black  nine  on 
a  black  ten. 

"  But  the  colors  must  alternate,"  I  protested,  think 
ing  she  had  forgotten  this  important  rule. 


HOW   A  TRUCE  WAS   TROUBLESOME        341 

"  Of  course —  I  know  that  perfectly  well — but  look 
what  a  fine  lot  of  cards  that  would  give  you.  There's 
a  deuce  of  hearts  you  could  play  up  and  a  three  of 
spades,  and  then  you  could  go  back  to  crossing  the 
colors  again,  right  away,  you  know,  and  you'd  have 
that  whole  line  running  up  to  the  king  ready  to  put 
into  that  space." 

I  looked  at  her,  as  she  would  have  glided  brazenly 
over  that  false  play  to  rejoice  in  the  true  plays  it  per 
mitted.  But  I  did  not  speak.  There  are  times,  indeed, 
when  we  most  honor  the  tongue  of  Shakspere  by  silence ; 
emergencies  to  which  words  are  so  inadequate  that  to 
attempt  to  use  them  were  to  degrade  the  whole  language. 

At  the  last  I  was  brought  face  to  face  with  a  most 
intricately  planned  defeat ;  a  defeat  insured  by  one 
spot  on  a  card.  Had  the  obstructive  card  been  a  six- 
spot  of  clubs  instead  of  a  seven-spot,  victory  was  mine. 
I  pointed  this  out  to  Miss  Kate,  who  had  declined  a 
chair  at  the  table  and  had  chosen  to  stand  beside  my 
own.  I  showed  her  the  series  of  plays  which,  but  for 
that  seven-spot,  would  put  the  kings  in  their  places  at 
the  top  and  let  me  win.  And  I  was  beaten  for  lack 
of  a  six. 

That  she  had  grasped  my  explanation  was  quickly 
made  plain.  Actually  with  some  enthusiasm  she 
showed  me  that  the  much-desired  six  of  clubs  lay 
directly  under  the  fatal  seven. 

"Just  lay  the  seven  over  here,"  she  began  eagerly, 
"  and  there's  your  black  six  ready  for  that  horrid  red 
five  that's  in  the  way  — 


342  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  But  there  isn't  any  '  over  here,' "  I  exclaimed  in 
some  irritation.  "  There  can  only  be  eight  cards  in  a 
row  —  that  would  make  nine." 

"  Yes,  but  then  you  could  play  up  all  the  others  so 
beautifully  —  just  see !  " 

"  Is  this  a  game,"  I  asked,  "  or  a  child's  crazy 
play  ? " 

"  Then  it's  an  exceedingly  stupid  game  if  you  can't 
do  a  little  thing  like  that  when  it's  absolutely  neces 
sary.  What  is  the  sense  of  it  ? " 

Her  eyes  actually  flashed  into  mine  as  she  leaned 
at  my  side  pointing  out  this  simple  way  to  victory. 

"  What's  the  sense  of  any  rules  to  any  game  on 
earth  ?  "  I  retorted.  "  If  I  hadn't  learned  to  respect 
rules  —  if  I  hadn't  learned  to  be  thankful  for  what 
the  game  allows  me,  however  little  it  may  be  —  I 
paused,  for  the  water  was  deeper  than  I  had  thought. 

"Well?" 

"Well  —  well  then  —  I  shouldn't  be  as  thankful  as 
I  am  this  instant  for  —  for  many  things  that  I  can't 
have  more  of." 

She  straightened  herself  and  favored  me  with  a 
curious  look  that  melted  at  last  into  a  puzzling  smile. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said.  With  a  shade 
more  of  encouragement  in  her  voice  I  had  been  near 
to  forgetting  my  honor  as  a  truce-observing  enemy. 
I  was  grateful,  indeed,  afterwards,  that  her  wish  to 
understand  me  was  not  sufficiently  implied  to  bring 
me  thus  low. 

"  Neither  do  I  understand  the  'morbid  psychology 


HOW    A   TRUCE  WAS  TROUBLESOME         343 

that  finds  satisfaction  in  cheating  at  solitaire,"  I  suc 
ceeded  in  saying.  "  I  never  can  see  how  they  fix  it 
up  with  themselves." 

"  I  believe  you  think  and  talk  a  great  deal  of  fool 
ishness,"  said  Miss  Kate,  in  tones  of  reproof ;  and 
with  this  she  was  off  the  porch  before  I  could  rise. 

She  wore  pink,  with  bits  of  blue  spotting  it  in  no 
systematic  order  that  I  could  discern,  and  a  pink  rose 
lay  abashed  in  her  hair. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

THE    ABDICATION    OF    THE    BOSS 

THERE  is  no  need  to  conceal  that  I  was  by  this 
time  put  to  it  for  matters  to  think  upon  not  clearly  re 
lated  to  myself ;  in  other  words  for  matters  extraneous 
to  my  neighbor's  troublesome  daughter.  In  sheer 
self-defence  was  I  driven  to  look  abroad  for  interests 
that  would  suffice  without  disquieting  me.  I  was  now 
compelled  to  admit  that  there  was  plainly  to  be  ob 
served  in  Miss  Kate  Lansdale  something  more  than 
a  mere  winning  faith  in  my  powers  of  self-control. 
It  was  difficult  at  first  to  suspect  that  she  actually 
meant  to  try  me  to  the  breaking  point.  The  suspi 
cion  brought  a  false  note  to  that  harmony  of  chastened 
grief  wherein,  I  had  divined,  she  meant  to  live  out  her 
life.  It  seemed  too  Peavey  and  perverse  a  thing  that 
she  should,  finding  our  truce  honorably  observed  by 
myself,  behave  toward  me  as  if  with  a  cold  design  to 
bring  me  down  in  disgrace  —  as  a  proof  of  her  supe 
rior  powers  and  my  own  wretched  weakness.  Yet 
this  very  thing  was  I  obliged  regretfully  to  concede  of 
her  before  many  days.  And  it  was  behavior  that  I 
could  palliate  only  by  reminding  myself  constantly 
that  she  was  not  only  a  woman  but  the  daughter  of 

344 


THE   ABDICATION   OF  THE   BOSS  345 

Miss  Caroline,  and  by  that  token  subject  inevitably  to 
certain  infirmities  of  character.  And  still  did  she  at 
times  evince  for  me  that  shyness  which  only  enhanced 
my  peril. 

I  managed  to  refrain,  though  in  so  grievous  a  plight, 
from  wishing  for  another  war ;  though  I  did  concede 
that  if  we  must  ever  again  be  cursed  with  war,  it  might 
as  well  come  now  as  later.  Regrettable  though  I 
must  consider  it,  I  should  there  find,  spite  of  my  dis 
ability,  some  field  of  active  endeavor  to  engage  my 
mind. 

Lacking  war,  I  sought  distraction  in  a  matter  close 
at  hand  —  one  which  possessed  quite  all  the  vivacity 
of  war  without  its  violence. 

Early  in  the  summer  Mrs.  Aurelia  Potts  had  re 
sumed  her  activities  in  behalf  of  our  broader  culture, 
whereupon  our  people  murmured  promptly  at  Solon 
Denney ;  for  him  did  Little  Arcady  still  hold  to 
account  for  the  infliction  of  this  relentless  evangel. 

It  was  known  that  something  still  remained  to  Mrs. 
Potts,  even  after  a  year,  of  the  pittance  secured  from 
the  railway  company,  so  that  it  was  not  necessity 
which  drove  her.  To  a  considerable  element  of  the 
town  it  seemed  to  be  mere  innate  perversity.  "  It's 
in  her,"  was  an  explanation  which  Westley  Keyts 
thought  all-sufficient,  though  he  added  by  way,  as  it 
were,  of  putting  this  into  raised  letters  for  the  blind, 
"  she'd  have  to  raise  hell  just  the  same  if  it  had  cost 
that  there  railroad  eight  million  'stead  of  eight  hun 
dred  to  exterminate  Potts  !  " 


346  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

For  myself,  I  should  have  set  this  thing  to  differ 
ent  words.  I  regarded  Mrs.  Potts  as  a  zealot  whom 
no  advantage  of  worldly  resource  could  blind  to  our 
shortcomings,  nor  deter  from  ministering  unto  them. 
Had  it  been  unnecessary  to  earn  bread  for  herself 
and  little  Roscoe,  I  am  persuaded  that  she  would 
still  have  been  unremitting  in  her  efforts  to  uplift  us. 
In  that  event  she  might,  it  is  true,  have  read  us  more 
papers  and  sold  us  fewer  books ;  but  she  would  have 
allowed  herself  as  little  leisure. 

That  Little  Arcady  was  unequal  to  this  broader 
view,  however,  was  to  be  inferred  from  comments 
made  in  the  hearing  of  and  often,  in  truth,  meant  for 
the  ears  of  Solon  Denney.  The  burden  was  shifted 
to  his  poor  shoulders  with  as  little  concern  as  if  our 
best  citizens  had  not  cooperated  with  him  in  the  origi 
nal  move,  with  grateful  applause  for  its  ingenious  and 
fanciful  daring.  In  ways  devoid  of  his  own  vaunted 
subtlety,  it  was  conveyed  to  Solon  that  Little  Arcady 
expected  him  to  do  something.  This  was  after  the 
town  had  been  cleanly  canvassed  for  two  monthly 
magazines  —  one  of  which  had  a  dress-pattern  in 
each  number,  to  be  cut  out  on  the  dotted  line  —  and 
after  our  heroine  had  gallantly  returned  to  the  charge 
with  a  rather  heavy  "  Handbook  of  Science  for  the 
Home,"-  — a  book  costing  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents 
and  treating  of  many  matters,  such  as,  how  to  conduct 
electrical  experiments  in  a  drawing-room,  how  to  cleanse 
linen  of  ink-stains,  how  the  world  was  made,  who  in 
vented  gun-powder,  and  how  to  restore  the  drowned. 


THE   ABDICATION   OF  THE   BOSS  347 

I  recite  these  from  memory,  not  having  at  hand  either 
of  my  own  two  copies  of  this  valuable  work.  Upon 
myself  Mrs.  Potts  was  never  to  call  in  vain,  for  to  me 
she  was  an  important  card  miraculously  shuffled  into 
the  right  place  in  the  game.  It  was  the  custom  of 
Miss  Caroline,  also,  to  sign  gladly  for  whatsoever 
Mrs.  Potts  signified  would  be  to  her  advantage.  She 
gave  the  "  Handbook  of  Science "  to  Clem,  who, 
being  strongly  moved  by  any  group  of  figures  over 
six,  rejoiced  passionately  to  read  the  weight  of  the 
earth  in  net  tons,  and  to  dwell  upon  those  vastly 
extensive  distances  affected  by  astronomers. 

But  abroad  in  the  town  there  was  not  enough  of 
this  complaisance  nor  of  this  passion  for  mere  numerals 
to  prevent  worry  from  creasing  the  brow  of  Solon 
Denney. 

"  The  good  God  helped  him  once,  but  it  looks  like 
he'd  have  to  help  himself  now,"  said  Uncle  Billy 
McCormick,  the  day  he  refused  to  subscribe  for  an 
improving  book  on  the  ground  that  the  clock-shelf 
wouldn't  hold  another  one.  And  this  view  of  the 
situation  came  also  to  be  the  desperate  view  of  Solon 
himself.  That  he  suffered  a  black  hour  each  week 
when  Mrs.  Potts  read  the  Argus  to  him  with  correc 
tions  to  make  it  square  with  "  One  Hundred  Common 
Errors  "  and  with  good  taste,  in  no  way  lessened  the 
feeling  against  him.  If  he  sustained  an  injury  peculiar 
to  his  calling,  it  seemed  probable  that  he  would  the 
sooner  be  moved  to  action.  Little  Arcady  did  not 
know  what  he  could  do,  but  it  had  faith  that  he 


348  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

would  do  something  if  he  were  pushed  hard  enough. 
So  the  good  people  pushed  and  trusted  and  pushed. 

To  those  brutal  enough  to  seek  direct  speech  about 
it  with  Solon,  he  professed  to  be  awaiting  only  the 
right  opportunity  for  a  brilliant  stroke,  and  he  coun 
selled  patience. 

To  me  alone,  I  think,  did  he  confide  his  utter  lack 
of  inspiration.  And  yet,  though  he  seemed  to  affect 
entire  candor  with  me,  I  was,  strangely  enough, 
puzzled  by  some  reserve  that  still  lurked  beneath  his 
manner.  I  hoped  this  meant  that  he  was  slowly  find 
ing  a  way  too  good  to  be  told  as  yet,  even  to  his  best 
friend. 

"  Something  must  be  done,  Cal,"  he  said,  on  one 
occasion,  "but  you  see,  here's  the  trouble  —  she's  a 
woman  and  I'm  a  man." 

"  That's  a  famous  old  trouble,"  I  remarked. 

"  And  she's  got  to  live,  though  Wes'  Keyts  says  he 
isn't  so  sure  of  that  —  he  says  I'm  lucky  enough  to 
have  an  earthquake  made  up  especially  for  this  case 
—  and  if  she  lives,  she  must  have  ways  and  means. 
And  then  I  have  my  own  troubles.  Say,  I  never 
knew  I  was  so  careless  about  my  language  until  she 
came  along.  She  says  only  an  iron  will  can  correct  it. 
Did  you  ever  notice  how  she  says  '  i — ron  '  the  way 
people  say  it  when  they're  reading  poetry  out  loud  ? 
I'll  bet,  if  he  had  her  help,  the  author  of  'One  Hundred 
Common  Errors  '  could  take  an  Argus  and  run  his 
list  up  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  no  time.  She  keeps 
finding  common  errors  there  that  I'll  bet  this  fellow 


THE   ABDICATION   OF   THE   BOSS  349 

never  heard  of.  You  mustn't  say  '  by  the  sweat  of  the 
brow,'  but  'by  the  perspiration '-  — perspiration  is  re 
fined  and  sweat  is  coarse  —  and  to-day  I  learned  for 
the  first  time  that  it's  wrong  to  say  '  Mrs.  Henry 
Peterby  of  Plum  Creek,  nte  Jennie  McCormick,  spent 
Sunday  with  her  parents  of  this  city.'  It  looks  right 
on  the  face  of  it,  but  it  seems  you  mustn't  say  '  n6e ' 
for  the  first  name  —  only  the  last ;  though  it  means 
in  French  that  that  was  her  name  before  she  was 
married.  I  tell  you,  that  woman  is  a  stickler.  But 
what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"Well,  what  can  you  do?  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
suggest  that  something  must  be  done." 

"  Do  you  know,  Cal,  sometimes  I've  thought  I'd 
adopt  a  tone  with  her  ?  " 

"  Better  be  careful,"  I  cautioned.  Mrs.  Potts  was 
not  a  person  that  one  should  adopt  a  tone  with  except 
after  long  and  prayerful  deliberation. 

"  Oh,  I've  considered  it  long  enough  —  in  fact  I've 
considered  a  lot  of  things.  That  woman  has  bothered 
me  in  more  ways  than  one,  I  tell  you  frankly.  She's 
such  a  fine  woman,  splendid-looking,  capable,  an  in 
tellectual  giant  —  one,  I  may  say,  who  makes  no 
common  errors  —  and  yet  — 

"Ah!  and  yet  —  ?"  There  was  then  in  Solon's 
eyes  that  curious  reserve  I  had  before  noted  —  a  re 
serve  that  hinted  of  some  desperate  but  still  secret 
design. 

"  Well,  there  you  are." 

"  Where  ? " 


350  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  Well  —  she  seems  to  me  to  be  a  born  leader  of 
men." 

"  I  see,  and  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  nothing  —  only  I'm  a  man.  But  something 
has  got  to  be  done.  We  must  use  common  sense  in 
these  matters." 

It  was  early  evening  a  week  later  when  I  again  saw 
Solon ;  one  of  those  still,  serene  evenings  of  later 
summer  when  the  light  would  yet  permit  an  hour's 
play  at  the  game.  I  heard  a  step,  but  it  was  not  she 
I  longed,  half-expected,  and  wholly  dreaded  to  see. 
Instead  came  Solon,  and  by  his  restored  confidence  of 
bearing  I  knew  at  a  glance  that  something  had  been 
done  or  —  since  he  seemed  to  be  hurried — that  he 
was  about  to  do  it. 

"  It's  all  over,  Cal  —  it's  fixed  !  " 

"  Good  —  how  did  you  fix  it  ?  " 

"  Well  —  uh  —  I  adopted  a  tone." 

"  That  was  brave,  Solon.  No  other  man  on  God's 
earth  would  have  dared  —  " 

"  A  tone,  I  was  about  to  say  -  "  he  broke  in  a  little 
uncomfortably,  I  thought  —  "  which  I  have  long  con 
templated  adopting.  If  I  could  tell  you  just  how  that 
woman  has  impressed  herself  upon  me,  you'd  under 
stand  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  she  has  powers. 
But  I  suppose  you  can't  understand  it,  can  you  ? " 
His  tone,  curiously  enough,  was  almost  pleading. 

"  It  isn't  necessary  that  I  should.  I  can  at  least 
understand  that  you  are  the  Boss  of  Little  Arcady 
once  more." 


THE   ABDICATION   OF   THE   BOSS  351 

"  Boss  of  nothing  !  —  that's  all  over.  Cal,  I've 
abdicated —  I'm  not  even  Boss  of  myself." 

"  Why,  Solon  —  you  can't  possibly  mean  —  ' 

"  I  do,  though  !  Mrs.  Potts  is  going  to  marry  me 
and  —  uh  —  put  an  end  to  everything  !  " 

With  this  rather  curious  finish  he  held  out  his 
hand  expectantly. 

"  Well,  you  certainly  did  something,  Solon." 

"  We  have  to  use  common  sense  in  these  matters," 
he  said  with  an  effort  to  control  his  excitement.  But, 
looking  into  his  eyes,  I  saw  reason  to  shake  him 
warmly  by  the  hand.  What  was  my  own  poor 
opinion  at  a  crisis  like  this  ?  Certainly  nothing  to  be 
obtruded  upon  my  friend.  It  was  clear  that  he  had 
done  a  thing  which  he  earnestly  wanted  and  had 
earnestly  dreaded  to  do  —  and  that  the  dread  was 
past. 

"I'm  pretty  happy,  Cal  —  that's  all.  Of  course 
you'll  soon  know  how  it  is  yourself."  He  referred 
here  to  the  well-known  fact  that  I  was  much  in  the 
company  of  Miss  Lansdale.  But  this  was  a  thing  to 
be  turned. 

"  Oh,  the  game  is  teaching  me  resignation  to  a 
solitary  life,"  I  said  with  an  affectation  of  disin- 
.terest  that  must  have  irritated  him,  for  he  asked 
bluntly  :  — 

"  Say,  Calvin,  how  long  do  you  intend  to  keep  up 
that  damned  nonsense  when  everybody  knows  — 

This  interesting  sentence  was  cut  off  by  Miss  Kate 
Lansdale,  who  appeared  around  the  corner  and  paused 


352  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

politely  before  us,  with  a  look  of  trained  and  admirable 
deafness. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Lansdale,"  said  Solon,  urbanely,  "  I  was 
just  about  to  speak  of  you." 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  the  young  woman,  simply.  I 
thought  she  was  aghast. 

"Yes  —  but  it's  not  worth  repeating  —  or'  fin 
ishing." 

Miss  Lansdale  seemed  to  be  relieved  by  this 
assurance. 

"  And  now  I  must  hurry  off,"  added  Solon. 

"  Good  evening !  "  we  both  said. 

It  seemed  to  be  of  a  stuff  from  which  curtains  are 
sometimes  made,  white,  with  little  colored  figures  in 
it,  but  the  design  would  have  required  at  least  a 
column  of  the  most  technical  description  in  a  maga 
zine  I  had  subscribed  for  that  summer.  There  was 
lace  at  the  throat,  and  I  should  say  that  the  thing 
had  been  constructed  with  the  needs  of  Miss  Lans- 
dale's  slender  but  completed  figure  solely  and  clearly 
in  mind. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

IN    WHICH    ALL    RULES    ARE    BROKEN 

SWIFTLY  I  appraised  the  cool  perfection  of  her 
attire,  scenting  the  spice  of  the  pinks  she  had  thrust 
at  her  belt.  And  I  suffered  one  heart-quickening 
look  from  her  eyes  before  she  could  lower  them  to 
me.  In  that  instant  I  was  stung  with  a  presentiment 
that  our  treaty  was  in  peril  —  that  it  might  go  fear 
fully  to  smash  if  I  did  not  fortify  myself.  It  came 
to  me  that  the  creature  had  regarded  my  past  success 
in  observing  this  treaty  with  a  kind  of  provocative 
resentment.  I  cannot  tell  how  I  knew  it  —  certainly 
through  no  recognized  media  of  communication. 

Most  formally  I  offered  her  a  chair  by  the  card- 
table,  and  resumed  my  own  chair  with  what  I  meant 
for  an  air  of  inhospitable  abstraction.  She  declined 
the  chair,  preferring  to  stand  by  the  table  as  was  her 
custom. 

"  It  was  on  this  spot  years  ago,"  I  said,  laying 
down  the  second  eight  cards,  "  that  Solon  Denney 
first  told  me  he  was  about  to  marry." 

Discursive  gossip  seemed  best,  I  thought. 

"  Two  long  yellow  braids,"  she  remarked.  It  would 
be  too  much  to  say  that  her  words  were  snapped 
out 

353 


354  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

"  And  now  he  has  told  me  again  —  I  mean  that 
he's  going  to  marry  again." 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  she  asked  more  cordially, 
studying  the  cards. 

"  The  first  time  I  went  to  war,"  I  answered  ab 
sently,  having  to  play  up  the  ace  and  deuce  of 
diamonds. 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  care  much  for  yellow 
hair,"  she  observed,  also  studying  the  cards;  "of 
course,  it's  effective,  in  a  way,  but  —  may  I  ask  what 
you're  going  to  do  this  time  ?  " 

"This  time  I'm  going  to  play  the  game." 

Again  she  studied  the  cards. 

"  It's  refining,"  I  insisted.  "  It  teaches.  I'm 
learning  to  be  a  Sannyasin." 

Eight  other  cards  were  down,  and  I  engrossed 
myself  with  them. 

"  Is  a  Sannyasin  rather  dull  ?  " 

"  In  the  Bhagavad-gita,"  I  answered,  "  he  is  to  be 
known  as  a  Sannyasin  who  does  not  hate  and  does 
not  love  anything." 

"  How  are  you  progressing  ?  "  I  felt  her  troubling 
eyes  full  upon  me,  and  I  suspected  there  was  mockery 
in  their  depths. 

"Oh,  well,  fairishly — but  of  course  I  haven't 
studied  as  faithfully  as  I  might." 

"I  should  think  you  couldn't  afford  to  be  negli 
gent." 

I  played  up  the  four  of  spades  and  put  a  king  of 
hearts  in  the  space  thus  happily  secured. 


IN   WHICH   ALL  RULES    ARE   BROKEN       355 

"  I  have  read,"  I  answered  absently,  "  that  a  be 
nevolent  man  should  allow  himself  a  few  faults  to 
keep  his  friends  in  countenance.  I  mustn't  be  every 
thing  perfect,  you  know." 

"  Don't  restrain  yourself  in  the  least  on  my 
account." 

"  You  are  my  sole  trouble,"  I  said,  playing  a  black 
seven  on  a  red  eight.  She  looked  off  the  table  as  I 
glanced  up  at  her. 

I  am  a  patient  enough  man,  I  believe,  and  I  hope 
meek  and  lowly,  but  I  saw  suddenly  that  not  all  the 
beatitudes  should  be  taken  without  reservation. 

"I  repeat,"  I  said,  for  she  had  not  spoken,  "your 
presence  is  the  most  troubling  thing  I  know.  It 
keeps  me  back  in  my  studies." 

"  There's  a  red  five  for  that  black  six,"  she 
observed. 

"  Thank  you  !  "  and  I  made  the  play. 

"  Then  you're  not  a  Sannyasin  yet  ?  " 

"  I've  nearly  taken  the  first  degree.  Sometimes 
after  hard  practice  I  can  succeed  in  not  hating  any 
thing  for  as  much  as  an  hour." 

I  dealt  eight  more  cards  and  became,  to  outward 
seeming,  I  hope,  absorbed  in  the  new  aspect  of  the 
game. 

"  Perseverance  will  be  rewarded,"  she  said  kindly. 
"  You  can't  expect  to  learn  it  all  at  once." 

"  You  might  try  not  to  make  it  harder  for  me." 

Again  had  I  been  a  third  person  of  fair  discern 
ment,  I  believe  I  should  have  sworn  that  I  caught  in 


356  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

her  eyes  a  gleam  of  hardened,  relentless  determina 
tion  ;  but  she  only  pointed  to  a  four  of  hearts  which 
I  was  neglecting  to  play  up. 

"  Why  not  play  the  game  to  win  ? "  she  asked, 
and  there  was  that  in  her  voice  which  was  like  to 
undo  me  —  a  tone  and  the  merest  fanning  of  my  face 
by  her  loose  sleeve  as  she  pointed  to  the  card. 

Suddenly  I  knew  that  honor  was  not  in  me.  She 
walked  within  my  lines  in  imminent  peril  of  the  dead 
liest  character.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  fear  in  the 
look  she  held  me  with,  and  I  knew  she  had  not  sensed 
her  danger. 

"  You  should  play  your  stupid  game  to  win,"  she 
repeated  terribly.  "  You  are  too  ingenious  at  finding 
balm  in  defeat."  That  little  golden  roughness  in  her 
voice  seemed  to  grate  on  my  bared  heart.  I  left  her 
eyes  with  a  last  desperate  appeal  to  the  game.  My 
hand  shook  as  it  laid  down  the  final  eight  cards. 

"  Have  I  ever  had  any  reason  to  think  I  could 
win  ? "  I  found  I  could  ask  this  if  I  kept  my  eyes 
upon  the  cards. 

She  laughed  a  curious,  almost  silent,  confidential 
little  laugh,  through  which  a  sigh  of  despair  seemed 
to  breathe. 

I  looked  quickly  up,  but  again  there  was  that 
strange  gleam  in  her  eyes,  a  gleam  of  sternest  resolve 
I  should  have  called  it  under  other  circumstances. 

"  You  see !  "  I  exclaimed,  pointing  with  a  trembling 
but  triumphant  finger  at  the  cards.  "  You  see !  I  am 
beaten  now,  in  this  game  that  seemed  easy  up  to  the 


IN   WHICH   ALL   RULES   ARE   BROKEN        357 

very  last  moment.  What  could  I  hope  for  in  a  game 
where  the  cards  fell  wretchedly  from  the  very  start  ? 
If  I  hoped  now,  I'd  be  a  hopeless  fool,  indeed  !  " 

"  Are  you  sure  you  know  how  to  play  this 
game  ? " 

There  was  a  sort  of  finality  in  her  words  that 
sickened  me. 

"  I  have  abided  always  by  the  rules,"  I  answered 
doggedly,  "  and  I  do  know  the  rules.  Look  —  this 
game  is  neatly  blocked  by  one  little  four-spot  on 
that  queen.  If  that  queen  were  free,  I  could  finish 
everything." 

"Oh,  oh  —  I've  told  you  it's  a  stupid  game  with 
stupid  rules — and  it  makes  its  players — "  She  did 
not  complete  that,  but  went  about  on  another  tack 
—  with  the  danger  note  in  her  voice.  "  Just  now 
I  overheard  your  caller  say  a  thing — " 

"  Ah,  I  feared  you  overheard." 

The  arrogance  of  the  gesture  with  which  she 
interrupted  me  was  splendid. 

"He  said,  '  How  long  are  you  going  to  keep  up 
that  — that  — '" 

"  That  will  do,"  I  said  severely.  "  Remember  there 
is  a  gentleman  present."  But  my  voice  sounded 
queerly  indeed  to  the  ears  most  familiar  with  its 
quality.  Also  it  trembled,  for  her  gaze,  almost  stern 
in  its  questioning,  had  not  released  me. 

"  But  how  long  are  you  ?  "  Her  own  voice  had 
trembled,  as  mine  did.  She  might  as  well  have  used 
the  avoided  word.  Her  tone  carried  it  far  too  intel- 


358  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

ligibly.  It  was  quite  as  bad  as  swearing.  I  tried 
twice  before  I  succeeded  in  finding  my  voice. 

"  I've  told  you,"  I  said  desperately ;  "  can't  you 
see  —  that  queen  isn't  free  ?" 

Swiftly  —  I  regret  to  say,  almost  with  a  show  of 
temper  —  she  snatched  the  four  of  diamonds  from 
its  lawful  place  and  laid  it  brazenly  far  outside  the 
game. 

"The  creature  is  free,"  she  said  crisply  —  but  at 
once  her  arrogance  was  gone  and  she  drooped  visibly 
in  weakness. 

So  quickly  did  I  rise  from  the  table  that  the  cards 
of  the  game  were  hurled  into  a  meaningless  confusion. 
I  stood  at  her  side.  I  had  lost  myself. 

"  Little  Miss,  —  oh,  Little  Miss  !  I've  a  thousand 
arms  all  crying  for  you." 

Slowly  she  made  her  eyes  come  to  mine  —  not 
without  effort,  for  we  were  close. 

"  I  am  glad  we  left  you,"  —  she  had  meant  to  say 
"that  arm,"  I  judge,  but  there  was  a  break  in  her 
voice,  a  swift  movement,  and  she  suddenly  said  "  this 
arm,"  with  a  little  shudder  in  which  she  could  not 
meet  my  eyes ;  for,  such  as  the  arm  was,  she  had 
finished  her  speech  from  within  it.  Close  I  held  her, 
like  a  witless  moonling,  forgetting  all  resolves,  all 
lessons,  all  treaties  —  all  but  that  she  was  not  a  dream 
woman. 

"  Oh,  Little  Miss !  "  was  all  I  could  say ;  and  she 
—  "  Calvin  Blake !  "  as  if  it  were  a  phrase  of  endear 
ment. 


IN  WHICH   ALL   RULES   ARE   BROKEN        359 

"  Little  Miss,  that  loss  has  put  me  out,  but  never 
has  it  been  the  hardship  it  is  now  —  one  arm  !  " 

I  had  not  thought  it  possible  for  her  to  come  nearer, 
but  a  successful  nestling  movement  was  her  answer. 

"  I  feel  the  need  of  a  thousand  arms,  and  yet  their 
strength  is  —  " 

"  Is  in  this  one."  She  completed  my  sentence  with 
her  own  nestling  emphasis  for  "  this  one." 

"  Can  you  believe  now,  Little  Miss  ? " 

"Yes  — you  gave  it  to  me  again." 

"  Can  you  believe  that  I  —  I  — 

"  That  was  never  hard.  I  believed  that  the  first 
evening  I  saw  you." 

"A  womanish  thing  to  say  —  I  didn't  know  it 
myself." 

But  she  laughed  to  me,  laughed  still  as  I  brought 
her  face  nearer  —  so  near.  Only  then  did  her  parted 
lips  close  tensely  in  the  woman  fear  of  what  she  read 
in  my  eyes.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she  would 
have  mastered  this  fear,  but  at  that  instant  Miss 
Caroline  coughed  rather  alarmingly. 

"  You  should  do  something  for  that  right  away,"  I 
said,  as  we  struck  ourselves  apart.  "  You  let  a  cough 
like  that  run  along  and  you  don't  know  what  it  may 
end  in."  Whereupon,  having  kissed  no  one  on  this 
occasion,  I  now  kissed  Miss  Caroline,  —  without  diffi 
culty,  I  may  add. 

"  I've  been  meaning  to  do  it  for  a  year,"  I  ex 
plained. 

"  I  must  remind  you  that  they  were  far  less  delib- 


360  THE   BOSS   OF  LITTLE  ARCADY 

erate  in  my  day,"  said  she,  with  a  delicate  hint  of 
reminiscence  in  her  tone.  Whereupon  she  looked 
searchingly  at  each  of  us  in  turn.  Then,  with  a  little 
gasp,  she  wept  daintily  upon  my  love's  shoulder. 

I  had  long  suspected  that  tears  were  a  mere  aes 
thetic  refreshment  with  Miss  Caroline.  I  had  never 
known  her  weaken  to  them  when  there  seemed  to 
be  far  better  reasons  for  it  than  the  present  occasion 
furnished. 

"  I  must  take  her  home,"  said  my  love,  without 
speaking. 

"  Do  / "  I  urged,  likewise  in  silence,  but  under 
standably. 

"  And  I  must  be  alone,"  she  called,  as  they  stepped 
out  on  to  the  lawn. 

"  So  must  I."  It  had  not  occurred  to  me ;  but  I 
could  see  thoughts  with  which  my  mind  needed  at 
once  to  busy  itself.  I  watched  them  go  slowly  into 
the  dusk.  I  thought  Miss  Caroline  seemed  to  be 
recovering. 

When  they  had  gone,  I  stepped  out  to  look  up  at  the 
strange  new  stars.  The  measure  of  my  dream  was 
full  and  running  over.  To  stand  there  and  breathe 
full  and  laugh  aloud  —  that  was  my  prayer  of  grati 
tude  ;  nor  did  I  lack  the  presence  of  mind  to  hope 
that,  in  ascending,  it  might  in  some  way  advantage 
the  soul  of  J.  Rodney  Potts,  that  humble  tool  with 
which  the  gods  had  wrought  such  wonders. 

It  was  no  longer  a  dream,  no  vision  brief  as  a  sum 
mer's  night,  when  the  light  fades  late  to  come  again 


IN  WHICH   ALL   RULES   ARE   BROKEN        361 

too  soon.  Before,  in  that  dreaming  time,  I  saw  that 
I  had  drawn  water  like  the  Danaides,  in  a  pitcher  full 
of  holes.  But  now  —  I  wondered  how  long  she  would 
find  it  good  to  be  alone.  I  felt  that  I  had  been  alone 
long  enough,  and  that  seven  minutes,  or  possibly 
eight,  might  suffice  even  her. 

She  came  almost  with  the  thought,  though  I  believe 
she  did  not  hurry  after  she  saw  that  I  observed  her. 

"  I  had  to  be  alone  a  long  time,  to  think  well  about 
it  —  to  think  it  all  out,"  she  said  simply. 

I  thought  it  unnecessary  to  state  the  precise  number 
of  minutes  this  had  required.  Instead  I  showed  her 
all  those  strange  new  stars  above  us,  and  together 
we  surveyed  the  replenished  heavens. 

"How  light  it  is  —  and  so  late!"  she  murmured 
absently. 

"  Come  back  to  our  porch." 

There  for  the  first  time  in  its  green  life  my  vine 
came  into  its  natural  right  of  screening  lovers.  In 
its  shade  my  love  cast  down  her  eyes,  but  intrepidly 
lifted  her  lips.  Miss  Caroline  was  still  where  she 
should  have  remained  in  the  first  place. 

"  I  am  very  happy,  Little  Miss  !  " 

"You  shall  be  still  happier,  Calvin  Blake.  I 
haven't  waited  this  long  without  knowing — " 

"  Nor  I  !     I  know,  too." 

"  I  hope  Jim  will  be  glad,"  she  suggested. 

"  He'll  be  delighted,  and  vastly  relieved.  It  has 
puzzled  him  fearfully  of  late  to  see  you  living  away 
from  me." 


362  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

We  sat  down,  for  there  seemed  much  to  say. 

"  I  believed  more  than  you  did,  with  all  your 
game,"  she  taunted  me. 

"  But  you  broke  the  rules.  '  Anybody  can  believe 
anything  if  he  can  break  all  the  rules." 

"  I'd  a  dreadful  time  showing  you  that  I  meant  to." 

I  shall  not  detail  a  conversation  that  could  have 
but  little  interest  to  others.  Indeed,  I  remember  it 
but  poorly.  I  only  know  that  it  seemed  magically 
to  feed  upon  itself,  yet  waxed  to  little  substance  for 
the  memory. 

One  thing,  however,  I  retain  vividly  enough.  In 
a  moment  when  we  both  were  silent,  renewing  our 
amazement  at  the  stars,  there  burst  upon  the  night  a 
volume  of  song  that  I  instantly  identified. 

"  She  sleeps,  my  lady  sleeps  !  "  sang  the  clear  tenor 
of  Arthur  Updyke.  "  My  lady  sleeps  —  she  sleeps  !  " 
sang  three  other  voices  in  well-blended  corroboration  ; 
after  which  the  four  discoursed  upon  this  interesting 
theme. 

We  were  down  from  the  stars  at  once,  but  I  saw 
nothing  to  laugh  at,  and  said  as  rnuch. 

"We  might  take  them  out  some  sandwiches  and 
things  to  drink,"  persisted  my  Little  Miss. 

But  the  starlight  had  shown  me  a  gleam  in  her 
eyes  that  was  too  outrageously  Peavey. 

"  We  will  not"  I  chanted  firmly  to  the  music's 
mellowed  accompaniment.  "  I  am  free  to  say  now 
that  the  thing  must  be  stopped,  but  you  shall  do  it 
less  brutally  —  to-morrow  or  next  day." 


IN   WHICH   ALL   RULES   ARE   BROKEN        363 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  —  " 

She  nestled  again.  So  soon  had  this  habit  seemed 
to  fasten  upon  her  adaptable  nature. 

"  It's  wonderful  what  one  arm  can  do,"  she  said  ; 
and  in  the  darkness  she  felt  for  the  closing  hand  of 
it  to  draw  it  yet  more  firmly  about  her. 

"  It  has  the  spirit  of  all  the  arms  in  the  world, 
Little  Miss  —  oh,  my  Little  Miss  —  my  dream  woman 
come  true ! " 

She  nestled  again,  with  a  sigh  of  old  days  ended. 

"  You  cant  get  any  closer,"  I  admonished. 

"fferef"  she  whispered  insistingly,  so  that  I  felt 
the  breath  of  it. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

BY   ANOTHER   HAND 

A  WANDERER  from  Little  Arcady  in  early  days 
returned  to  its  placid  shades  after  many  years,  drawn 
thither  by  a  little  quick-born  yearning  to  walk  the 
old  streets  again.  But  he  found  such  strangeness  in 
these  that  his  memory  was  put  to  prodigious  feats 
of  reconstruction  ere  it  could  make  them  seemly  as  of 
yore. 

To  the  west,  away  from  the  river,  the  town  has 
groped  beyond  a  prairie  frontier  that  had  once  been 
sacred  to  boyish  games  and  the  family  cow.  Now, 
so  thickly  was  it  built  with  neat  white  houses,  that 
only  with  strenuous  clairvoyance  could  famous  old 
localities  be  identified :  the  ball-ground ;  the  marshy 
stretch  that  made  skating  in  winter,  or,  in  spring,  a 
fascinating  place  to  catch  cold  by  wading ;  the  grassy 
common  where  "  shinny "  was  played  by  day  and 
"  Yellow  Horn  "  by  night ;  the  enchanted  spot  where 
the  circus  built  airy  castles  of  canvas,  and  where,  on 
the  day  after,  one  might  plant  one's  feet  squarely 
in  the  magic  ring,  on  the  veritable  spot,  perchance, 
where  the  clown  had  superhumanly  ridden  the  diffi 
cult  trick-mule  after  local  volunteers  had  failed  so 
entertainingly. 

364 


BY   ANOTHER   HAND  365 

Barns  in  this  once  wild  country  had  failed  amaz 
ingly.  Only  one  of  any  character  was  left,  and  it 
had  shrunk.  Of  old  a  structure  of  possibilities  in 
tensely  romantic,  it  was  now  dingy,  pitiable,  insignifi 
cant.  No  reasonable  person  would  consider  holding 
a  circus  there  —  admission  ten  pins  for  boys  and  five 
pins  for  girls. 

Orchards,  too,  had  suffered.  Acres  of  them,  once 
known  to  their  last  tree,  including  the  safest  routes 
of  approach  by  day  or  night,  had  been  cut  down  to 
make  space  for  substantial  but  unexciting  houses, 
quite  like  the  houses  in  anybody's  town.  Other 
orchards  had  shrunk  to  a  few  poor  unproductive  trees 
so  little  prized  by  their  owners  that  they  could  no 
longer  excite  evil  thoughts  in  the  young. 

Indeed,  almost  everything  had  shrunk.  The  church 
steeples,  once  of  an  inconceivable  height,  were  now 
but  a  scant  sixty  feet;  and  the  buildings  beneath 
them,  that  once  had  vied  with  old-world  cathedrals, 
were  seen  to  be  but  toy  churches. 

Especially  had  gardens  shrunk.  One  that  boasted 
the  widest  area  in  days  when  it  must  be  hoed  for  the 
advantage  of  potatoes  insanely  planted  there,  was  now 
a  plot  so  tiny  that  the  returned  wanderer,  amazedly 
staring  at  it,  abandoned  all  effort  to  make  it  occupy 
its  old  place  in  his  memory. 

North  and  south  were  dozens  of  strange,  prim 
houses  to  puzzle  up  the  streets.  The  street-signs, 
another  innovation,  were  truly  needed.  Of  old  it 
had  been  enough  to  say  "  down  toward  the  depot," 


366  THE   BOSS  OF   LITTLE  ARCADY 

"  out  by  the  McCormick  place,"  "next  to  the  Presby 
terian  church,"  "  up  around  the  schoolhouse,"  or 
"  down  by  the  lumber  yard."  But  now  it  was  plain 
that  one  had  to  know  First,  Second,  and  Third  streets, 
Washington,  Adams,  and  Jefferson  streets. 

Socially  as  well,  the  town  had  changed.  Not  only 
is  the  native  stock  more  travelled,  speaking  —  entirely 
without  an  air — of  trips  to  the  Yellowstone,  to  Europe, 
Chicago,  or  Santa  Barbara,  but  a  new  element  has  in 
vaded  the  little  country.  It  goes  in  the  fall,  but  it 
comes  again  each  summer,  drawn  by  the  green  beauty 
of  the  spot,  and  it  has  left  its  impress. 

The  revisiting  wanderer  observed,  as  in  a  dream, 
an  immaculate  coupe"  with  a  couple  of  men  on  the 
box  who  behaved  quite  as  if  they  were  about  to  enter 
the  park  in  the  full  glare  of  Fifty-ninth  Street  and 
Fifth  Avenue,  though  they  were  but  on  a  street  of 
the  little  country  among  farm  wagons.  The  outfit 
was  ascertained  to  belong  to  a  summer  resident  who 
was  said,  by  common  report,  to  "have  wine  right  on 
the  table  at  every  meal."  No  one  born  out  of  Little 
Arcady  can  appraise  the  revolutionary  character  of 
this  circumstance  at  anything  like  its  true  value. 

Further,  in  the  line  of  vehicular  sensationalism,  a 
modish  wicker-bodied  phaeton  and  a  minute  pony- 
cart  were  seen  on  a  pleasant  afternoon  to  issue  from 
a  driveway  far  up  a  street  that  now  has  a  name,  but 
which  used  to  be  adequately  identified  by  saying  "  up 
toward  the  Fair  Grounds." 

The  phaeton  was  occupied  by  two  ladies,  one  rather 


BY   ANOTHER   HAND  367 

old,  to  whom  a  couple  of  half-grown  children  in  the 
pony-cart  kissed  their  hands  and  shouted.  They  were 
not  permitted  to  follow  the  phaeton,  however,  as  they 
seemed  to  have  wished.  Its  shock-headed  pony,  driven 
by  an  aged  negro  who  scolded  both  children  with  a 
worn  and  practised  garrulity,  was  turned  in  another 
direction.  One  of  the  children,  a  little  dark-faced  girl 
of  eight  or  nine,  called  "  Little  Miss  "  by  the  driver, 
was  repeatedly  threatened  in  the  fiercest  tone  by  him 
because  of  her  perilous  twistings  to  look  back  at  the 
phaeton.  The  cart  was  followed  by  a  liver-and-white 
setter;  a  young  dog,  it  seemed,  from  his  frenzied 
caperings  and  his  manner  of  appearing  to  think  of 
something  else  in  the  midst  of  every  important 
moment. 

There  proved  to  be  two  papers  in  the  town,  as  of 
old,  but  the  Argus  was  now  published  twice  a  week, 
Wednesdays  and  Saturdays.  The  wanderer  eagerly 
scanned  its  columns  for  familiar  names  and  for 
something  of  the  town's  old  tone ;  but  with  little 
success. 

Said  one  item,  "  A  string  of  electric  lights,  on  a 
street  leading  up  one  of  our  hills,  looks  like  a  neck 
lace  of  brilliants  on  the  bosom  of  the  night."  Old 
Little  Arcady  had  not  electric  lights ;  nor  the  Argus 
this  exuberance  of  simile. 

Again  :  "  This  new  game  of  golf  that  the  summer 
folks  play  seems  to  have  too  much  walking  for  a 
good  game  and  just  enough  game  to  spoil  a  good 
walk."  Golf  in  the  Little  Country  ! 


368  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

The  advent  of  musical  culture  was  signified  by 
this  :  "  At  least  thirty  girls  in  this  town  can  play  the 
first  part  of  '  Narcissus  '  pretty  well.  But  when  they 
come  to  the  second  part  they  mangle  the  keys  for  a 
minute  and  then  say,  '  I  don't  care  much  for  that 
second  part — do  you?'  Why  don't  some  of  them 
learn  it  and  give  us  a  chance  to  judge  ?  " 

The  Argus  had  acquired  a  "  Woman's  Depart 
ment,"  conducted  by  Mrs.  Aurelia  Potts  Denney, 
wife  of  the  editor,  —  a  public-spirited  woman,  promi 
nent  in  club  circles,  and  said  to  be  of  great  assistance 
to  her  husband  in  his  editorial  duties.  The  town  was 
proud  of  her,  and  sent  her  as  delegate  to  the  Federa 
tion  of  Woman's  Clubs ;  her  name,  indeed,  has  been 
printed  in  full  more  than  once,  even  by  Chicago 
newspapers.  Some  say  that  wisely  she  might  give 
more  attention  to  her  twin  sons,  Hayes  and  Wheeler 
Denney ;  but  this  likely  is  ill-natured  carping,  for 
Hayes  and  Wheeler  seem  not  more  lawless  than 
other  twins  of  eight.  And  carpers,  to  a  certainty,  do 
exist  in  Little  Arcady. 

One  Westley  Keyts,  for  example,  lounging  in  the 
doorway  of  his  meat-shop,  renewed  acquaintance  with 
the  wanderer,  who  remembered  him  as  a  glum-faced 
but  not  bad-hearted  chap.  Names  recalled  and  hands 
shaken,  Mr.  Keyts  began  to  lament  the  simple  ways 
of  an  elder  day,  glancing  meanwhile  with  honest  dis 
approval  at  a  newly  installed  competitor  across  the 
street.  The  shop  itself  was  something  of  an  affront, 
its'  gilt  name  more  —  "The  Bon  Ton  Market."  Mr. 


BY   ANOTHER   HAND  369 

Keyts  pronounced  "  Bon  Ton  "  in  his  own  fashion, 
but  his  contempt  was  ably  and  amply  expressed. 

"  Sounds  like  one  of  them  fancy  names  for  a  corset 
or  a  patent  lamp,"  he  complained.  "  It's  this  here 
summer  business  that  done  it.  They  swarm  in  here 
with  their  private  hacks  and  their  hired  help  all 
togged  out  till  you'd  think  they  was  generals  in  the 
army,  and  they  play  that  game  of  sissy-shinny 
(drop-the-handkerchief  for  mine,  if  /  got  to  play  any 
such  game),  and  they're  such  great  hands  to  kite 
around  nights  when  folks  had  ought  to  be  in  their 
beds.  I  tell  you,  my  friend,  it  ain't  doing  this  town 
one  bit  of  good.  The  idea  of  a  passel  of  strong, 
husky  young  men  settin'  around  'on  porches  in  their 
white  pants  and  calling  it  '  passing  the  summer.'  / 
ain't  never  found  time  to  pass  any  summers." 

The  wanderer  expressed  a  proper  regret  for  this 
decadence.  Mr.  Keyts  reverted  bitterly  to  the  Bon 
Ton  market :  — 

"  Good  name  for  a  tooth  powder,  or  a  patent  neck 
tie,  or  an  egg-beater.  But  a  butcher-shop  !  —  why, 
it's  a  hell  of  a  name  for  a  butcher-shop !  " 

The  wanderer  expressed  perfect  sympathy  with 
this  view  of  the  shop  legend,  and  remarked,  "  By 
the  way,  whose  big  house  is  that  with  the  columns  in 
front,  up  where  the  Prouse  and  old  Blake  houses  used 
to  be  ? " 

The  face  of  Mr.  Keyts  became  pleasanter. 

"  Oh,  that  ?  —  that's  Cal  Blake's  — Major  Blake's, 
you  know.  He  married  a  girl  that  come  in  here  from 


370  THE   BOSS   OF   LITTLE   ARCADY 

the  South  with  her  mother.  I  guess  that  was  after 
you  got  out  of  here.  They  tore  down  the  two  houses 
and  built  that  big  one.  They  say  it's  like  them 
Southern  houses,  but  I  don't  know.  It  seems  awful 
plain  up  the  front  of  it.  Cal's  all  right,  though.  I 
guess  mebbe  he  built  the  house  kind  of  bare  that  way 
to  please  his  wife  and  his  mother-in-law.  I'll  bet  if 
he'd  had  his  own  way,  there'd  be  some  brackets  and 
fret  work  on  the  front  to  liven  it  up  some.  But  I'd 
a  done  just  like  him  in  his  place,  I  would,  by  Gee! 
So  would  you  if  you  seen  his  wife.  Say  !  but  never 
mind ;  you  wait  right  here.  She'll  drive  up  to  git 
Cal  from  his  office  at  four-thirty  —  it's  right  across 
there  over  the  bank  where  that  young  fellow  is  settin' 
in  the  window  —  that's  young  Cal  Denney,  studyin' 
law  with  Blake.  You  just  wait  and  see  —  she'll 
drive  up  in  about  six  minutes." 

The  wanderer  waited,  out  of  pure  cordiality  to  Mr. 
Keyts.  The  prospect  was  not  exciting,  but  the  simple 
faith  of  the  villagers  that  outsiders  must  share  their 
interest  in  local  concerns  has  always  seemed  too 
touching  a  thing  to  wreck. 

Within  the  six  minutes  mentioned  by  Mr.  Keyts 
the  diurnal  happening  to  which  he  attached  such 
importance  was  observed.  A  woman  (the  younger 
of  the  two  seen  in  the  phaeton)  drove  up  for  Major 
Calvin  Blake  ;  a  youngish  rather  than  a  young  woman, 
slight,  with  an  effect  of  stateliness,  and  not  unattrac 
tive.  Her  husband,  a  tall  and  pleasant  enough  look 
ing  man,  came  down  the  stairs,  and  when  he  saw  the 


BY   ANOTHER   HAND  371 

woman  his  face  lighted  swiftly  —  and  rather  wonder 
fully,  when  one  considers  that  she  was  not  unex 
pected.  They  drove  away. 

The  wanderer  was  not  disposed  to  minimize  the 
incident,  however  far  he  might  fall  short  of  Westley 
Keyts's  appreciation.  But  he  had  been  long  absent 
from  the  Little  Country,  and  the  people  of  to-day 
were  strange  and  unimportant.  He  preferred  to 
revive,  as  best  he  might,  the  days  of  his  own  simple 
faith  in  the  town's  sufficiency ;  days  when  the  world 
beyond  the  Little  Country  was  but  a  place  from 
which  to  order  merchandise,  or  into  which,  at  the 
most,  adventurous  Arcadians  dared  brief  journeys  for 
profit  or  a  doubtful  pleasure ;  the  days  of  a  boy's 
Little  Arcady,  that  existed  no  more  save  as  a  wraith 
in  remembering  minds. 


The   Lions  of  the   Lord 


By   HARRY    LEON   WILSON 

Author  of  "  The  Spenders."  Six  illustrations  by  Rose  Cecil 
O'Neill,  bound  in  dark  green  cloth,  illustrated  cover,  12010. 
$1.50,  postpaid. 

In  his  romance  of  the  old  West,  "  The  Lions  of  the  Lord," 
Mr.  Wilson,  whose  "  The  Spenders  "  is  one  of  the  successes 
of  the  present  year,  shows  an  advance  in  strength  and  grasp 
both  in  art  and  life.  It  is  a  thrilling  tale  of  the  Mormon  set 
tlement  of  Salt  Lake  City,  with  all  its  grotesque  comedy, 
grim  tragedy,  and  import  to  American  civilization.  The 
author's  feeling  for  the  Western  scenery  affords  him  an 
opportunity  for  many  graphic  pen  pictures,  and  he  is  equally 
strong  in  character  and  in  description.  For  the  first  time  in 
a  novel  is  the  tragi-comedy  of  the  Mormon  development 
adequately  set  forth.  Nothing  fresher  or  more  vital  has 
been  produced  by  a  native  novelist. 

The   Spenders 

By   HARRY   LEON    WILSON 
55th  Thousand 

Author  of  "The  Lions  of  the  Lord."  Red  silk  cloth,  rough 
edges,  picture  cover.  Six  illustrations  by  Rose  Cecil 
O'Neill.  i2mo.  $1.50,  postpaid. 

Mark  Twain  writes  to  the  author :  "  It  cost  me  my  day 
yesterday.  You  owe  me  $400.  But  never  mind,  I  forgive 
you  for  the  book's  sake." 

Louisville  Courier-Journal  says :  "  If  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  the  American  novel  of  a  new  method,  this  is  one.  Abso 
lutely  to  be  enjoyed  is  it  from  the  first  page  to  the  last." 

Harry  Thurston  Peck,  in  the  New  York  American,  says : 
"  The  very  best  two  books  written  by  Americans  during  the 
past  year  have  been  '  The  Spenders,'  by  Harry  Leon  Wilson, 
and  '  The  Pit,'  by  Frank  Norris." 

LOTHROP    PUBLISHING    COMPANY,   BOSTON 


The  Master  of  Warlock 

By  GEORGE  GARY  EGGLESTON,  Author  of  "Dor 
othy  South,"  "A  Carolina  Cavalier."  Six  Illustrations 
by  C.  D.  Williams.  J2mo.  Dark  red  cloth,  illustrated 
cover,  gilt  top,  rough  edges.  Price,  $1.50  each. 

THE  MASTER  OF  WARLOCK  "  has  an  interest 
ing  plot,  and  is  full  of  purity  of  sentiment,  charm  of 
atmosphere,  and  stirring  doings.  One  of  the  typical  family 
fe^ids  of  Virginia  separates  the  lovers  at  first ;  but,  when 
the  hero  goes  to  the  war,  the  heroine  undergoes  many 
hardships  and  adventures  to  serve  him,  and  they  are  hap 
pily  united  in  the  end. 

Dorothy  South 

A  STORY  OF  VIRGINIA  JUST  BEFORE  THE  WAR 

Baltimore  Sun  says : 

"  No  writer  in  the  score  and  more  of  novelists  now  ex 
ploiting  the  Southern  field  can,  for  a  moment,  compare  in 
truth  and  interest  to  Mr.  Eggleston.  In  the  novel  before 
us  we  have  a  peculiarly  interesting  picture  of  the  Virginian 
in  the  late  fifties.  We  are  taken  into  the  life  of  the  people. 
We  are  shown  the  hearts  of  men  and  women.  Characters 
are  clearly  drawn,  and  incidents  are  skilfully  presented. 

A  Carolina  Cavalier 

A  STIRRING  TALE  OF  WAR  AND  ADVENTURE 

Philadelphia  Home  Advocate  says : 

"  As  a  love  story,  '  A  Carolina  Cavalier '  is  sweet  and 
true ;  but  as  a  patriotic  novel,  it  is  grand  and  inspiring. 
We  have  seldom  found  a  stronger  and  simpler  appeal  to 
our  manhood  and  love  of  country." 

Lothrop  Publishing  Company  -  -  Boston 


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